


Take My Hand, We'll Make It I Swear It

by MycroftexMachina



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2015-2016 NHL Season, 2016-2017 NHL Season, 2017-2018 NHL Season, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 16:01:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14139504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MycroftexMachina/pseuds/MycroftexMachina
Summary: Mitch Marner and Auston Matthews meet at World Juniors 2016.





	Take My Hand, We'll Make It I Swear It

**Author's Note:**

> On a couple of occasions, delaflor asked my take on Connor Brown. He’s not easy to write, because so little about him makes it into fics when compared to the other rookies/sophomores. When the idea for this story came to me, however, I realized Brownie had, by necessity, to be an integral part of the plot. So, delaflor, here is my Brownie. I hope I did him justice.

**Winter 2015-6**

 

Mitch meets Auston Matthews in Helsinki on December 29th 2015\. Although he’s heard about him before—the two of them have been featured on the cover of _Hockey News_ in preparation for the tournament, plus Matthews is a top prospect, and Mitch likes to keep an eye on the competition—their paths have never crossed until now.

 

Matthews is on a team with Chucky and Dvo, who are two of the biggest pains in the ass Mitch has ever met—Stromer gets offended when Mitch reminds him of this, like he wants the title for himself. Mitch doesn't get Stromer, sometimes.

 

Anyway, Chucky and Dvo know Matthews and they’ve spent the last few games in London chirping Mitch about how the Americans are going to slaughter the Canadians. Liney-love doesn't count for much in international tournaments, Mitch has found out. He supposes that makes sense.

 

The point is, Chucky and Dvo know Matthews, Chucky and Dvo know Mitch, and so of course they introduce the two of them. In the ensuing months, Mitch will often wonder whether he should send the two of them a fruit basket or a box full of venomous spiders. It’s a toss-up, really.

 

Mitch is hanging out with Stromer and Mat Barzal, who’s really chill, when Dvo texts him to invite him—and whatever Canadian loser wants to tag along—out for drinks.

 

Mat comes because he resents the ‘loser’ label and wants to display all of his Canadian glory by challenging Dvo at a game of darts. Stromer comes because he and Mitch are attached at the hips these days—in a purely platonic manner. Where Mitch goes, Stromer follows, and as much as it is a weird view for most of the guys who were around when Mitch and Dylan were at each other’s throat, it’s now a part of life. Even Davo has resigned himself to this state of affairs, and Davo is a jealous son of a bitch when it comes to his friends.

 

Stromer, who is smarter than many people think, not to mention a skilled diplomat, texts Brinksy to get a mediator—an Otter who’s American. Mitch is just thankful he’s not going to be the tinier player in the room, because Chucky can get vicious when he’s in a mood.

 

As far as first meetings go, this one is initially fairly unremarkable.

 

Chucky and Dvo put on their usual puppet show and Matthews lays back and lets them do their thing, clearly as familiar with their shenanigans as Mitch is. It’s almost like he’s perfectly fine with fading into the background and letting others enjoy the spotlight. It’s an interesting feature of his, considering the splash he made among hockey commentators by going to play professional hockey in Europe.

 

Mitch’s first impression of Auston Matthews, therefore, is that the guy is quiet, a little bit too serious—sort of like Davo, but without Davo’s uncanny charisma—and seemingly lacking a decent sense of humor. He looks almost bored by Chucky’s chirping, uninterested in answering Stromer’s questions about Switzerland—though it’s clear that he’s been fielding tons of them already, so he might legitimately be sick of them—and somewhat amused by the fact that Canadians and Americans can be so tight.

 

“Get used to it, bro,” Barzy says, once he’s suitably destroyed Dvo at darts. “It’s going to be even worst in the big league.”

 

So Mitch’s first impression of Matthews is not what he would call great, but, halfway through the evening, things change. With the help of some alcohol Matthews’ quirky sense of humor comes out in full display. He gets a few good laughs out of Stromer, who _wasn't_ impressed, and he talks a bit about Arizona and growing up in an unusual hockey market.

 

This sort of switch is clearly something his teammates are already used to, because they are ready and they chirp him mercilessly because of it. Still, Matthews puts Chucky in his place with a couple of well-timed comments, especially when Chucky makes fun of Mitch’s size—because he’s a fucking moron, and how did Mitch enter the conversation anyway? Then, and here is the kicker, he sends a quick smile and a wink in Mitch’s direction.

 

Now, Mitch will go to his grave arguing strenuously that Auston Matthews doesn't know how to wink to save his life. There actually is video evidence of that—not to mention the fact that witnessing the _thing_ in person is the stuff of nightmares.

 

That smile, however. Holy shit, that _smile_. Auston Matthews’ smile is something else entirely. It makes Mitch’s knees weak and his belly flutter. It makes Mitch downs half of his beer and what is left of Stromer’s, who looks at him like he’s ready to kill him. It makes Mitch wants to go down on his knees and worship at the altar of Auston Fucking Matthews, the generational talent from the Sunbelt who went to play in Europe instead of sticking to North America like a good boy.

 

Mitch is a lot of things, but a coward is not one of them. If he sees something he likes, he goes after it—a hockey career being the best example of his determination to achieve the impossible. He’s usually not as relentless with people, for all that he loves everyone and everyone loves him, too.

 

Auston Matthews’ smile makes Mitch _want_ , though, and Mitch thinks, _Why the hell not?_ They’re in Finland, it’s two days before New Year’s and time is a-wasting. Plus, there is nothing wrong with harmless flirting, and Mitch is a flirting champion.

 

It thus happens that Mitch spends the rest of the evening chatting up Auston Matthews, much to Stromer’s amusement. Dvo and Chucky can be remarkably dim-witted after a couple of beers, so they don’t notice, or they don't even pay attention. As for Brinksy, he is not sufficiently familiar with Mitch in flirting mode to be able to detect the difference from Normal Mitch.

 

Matthews, however, is neither dim-witted nor completely drunk. And he’s giving back as much as he gets, touching Mitch, leaning against him and giggling at Mitch’s stories about Dvo and Chucky in London.

 

By the time Stromer reminds them of their curfew, the other Americans have long vacated the premises. Mitch blinks at Dylan and then at Auston, who smiles sheepishly.

 

“I am spending the night at Barzy’s,” Stromer informs Mitch, going for casual and missing by a mile. “We want to go over the penalty kill.”

 

“At midnight?” Mitch blurts out.

 

“I can come up with a better excuse if you want, Marns,” Stromer smirks, looking at Matthews—Matty, apparently. “But I am really exhausted.”

 

“Penalty kill works,” Matty replies, grinning toothily. “Thanks man. We owe you one.”

 

“Oh, I will collect, Matthews, don't you worry about that,” Stromer assures him before biding them goodnight.

 

On the way back to the room he shares with Dylan, Mitch thanks the hockey gods that Team Canada and Team America are housed in the same hotel.

 

Matty seems to find Mitch’s excitement amusing, but he changes his tune when Mitch displays his mad skills in the deep-throating department. What can he says? He’s really good at giving head.

 

Sex with Auston Matthews, and Mitch really needs to stop calling him by his first and last name sometimes soon, is akin to a religious experience.

 

For one, Matty is really Mitch’s type. He’s tall, he’s huge and he’s thick everywhere—arms, chest, thighs, dick. For all that he’s a few months younger than Mitch, he’s all grown-up and Mitch laps that up.

 

For two, Matty is not afraid to use his size to get Mitch to do what he wants. And granted, what Matty wants coincides with Mitch wants, so that’s perfect. But there is also the fact that Mitch likes it when guys don't treat him like he’s a china doll. He gets enough of the ‘too small’ bullshit from the media and from his dad. He doesn't need it in the bedroom with his male partners.

 

For three, Matty is also not afraid to ask for what he wants by using words. You know, like, subject, verb and direct object. It’s a nice change from a couple of Mitch’s juniors’ hook-ups. It’s always better when one knows what one’s partner wants, Mitch always reasoned. It leaves less room for misunderstandings. So when Matty says things like “I want you on your back, with your legs spread wide open,” or “Don’t suck so hard, I wanna come on your face,” Mitch is only too happy to oblige.

 

Mitch is happy to oblige for the rest of the tournament, really, and that’s exactly what he does. Sure, Stromer and Brock Boeser aren’t too happy to realize they’re about to become best buddies, since they have to share their free time and their nights in Matty’s room. However, they’re good bros, both of them, and it’s not like Mitch and Matty leave them much of a choice. They even refrain from chirping them too much—and whether it is because they don't want to come off as homophobic or because they’re still at World Juniors representing their country, Mitch doesn't know or care.

 

“You don’t care that people know,” Mitch observes on New Year’s Day, long after the festivities have quieted down. They’re lying on Mitch’s bed, their skin cooling after an enthusiastic exchange of blowjobs.

 

“Do you?” Matty asks, caressing Mitch’s spine with his left hand.

 

“Not really,” Mitch admits. “As long as it doesn't jeopardize hockey.”

 

“Everybody here understands that,” Matty points out, seemingly feeling like he has to reassure Mitch about his teammates’ upstanding nature.

 

“I play with Christian and Matt,” Mitch reminds him. “I know them well.”

 

“Good,” Matty says, rolling over and covering Mitch’s body with his. “As long as we’re clear.”

 

“We are,” Mitch smirks.

 

Not making it to the semifinals sucks, but what sucks more is having to go back to Canada too early. Matty lives in Switzerland and when he’s not there, he’s in Arizona.

 

Also, Auston Matthews is currently ranked first among the European players, so he’s most likely going to go first or second at the draft. And sure, the Leafs are sucking so bad this year that there is a chance they’re going to be a top contender in the lottery. But it’s the Leafs, and they do nothing better than winning zilch, so Mitch isn’t holding his breath about them being able to draft Auston Matthews.

 

So Mitch feels like crap, because he knows this is it, this is the end of his hot fling with the American Connor McDavid—Matty hates the nickname with a passion, so Stromer strives to use it often. Mitch does love Stromer a lot.

 

Mitch doesn't usually feel like crap, when something like what he’s been doing with Matty ends. They’re young, they’re guys, and they’re horny. It’s all good. Still, there is a nagging feeling in the back of his head that makes Mitch uneasy, like this is not an ‘usual’ situation. There is nothing he can do about it, however.

 

Still, when Matty asks him to exchange numbers and various social media handles and promises to keep in touch, Mitch readily agrees. After all, you don't get through so much sex without talking about other things as well. Mitch thinks they’re sort of friends, now.

 

Plus, Auston kissed him so thoroughly right before Mitch left for the airport that he felt he was some kind of heroine in a Hallmark Movie, so maybe it’s not just him. Maybe. That should have been a warning sign.

 

**Spring 2016**

 

Mitch is surprised by the amount of texts, Snaps and even emails he gets from Matty during the months following World Juniors. Surprised but happy, because he genuinely likes Matty, and he’s completely smitten by his wicked sense of humor and his dumb face.

 

So he texts back, usually stories about the Knights, and sometimes about Stromer and their rivalry. Matty seems weirdly fascinated by what goes on in the O, though he finds the interconnections among the various players bordering on incestuous—his words, not Mitch. Mitch supposes that, considering how many Stromes, MacLeods and what not there are around, Matty might have a point. Mitch is suddenly glad Chris decided hockey wasn't for him.

 

Matty also texts about living in Switzerland with his mother. It’s quite endearing. Mitch learns how much Matty loves him mom, even if Matty is allegedly too chill to actually come out and say it. Mitch gets it, because he is the same. Not too chill—Mitch knows himself too well to even pretend to have a chill bone in his body. But he, too, loves his mother a lot. His dad too, and Chris, of course. But mom is mom.

 

They talk about hockey a lot, of course. Mitch tries to catch some of Matty’s games—not an easy feat without an Internet connection and some skills with illegal streaming and what not—and Matty tells him he, too, is watching Mitch’s highlights.

 

“It’s not pro hockey,” Mitch reminds him one day, during one of their rare Skype calls. It’s not easy that their schedules align, especially with the time difference, so they don't see each other often.

 

“It is pro hockey, Marns,” Matty says, rolling his eyes. “Do we need to talk about your self-esteem again?”

 

“I’ve got Stromer for that,” Mitch smirks.

 

Matty rolls his eyes again, which seems to be his default expression when dealing with Mitch.

 

“Just tell Christian that he needs to do a better job in keeping up with you,” Matty says.

 

“I tell him all the time,” Mitch defends himself. “He just doesn't listen to me. Doesn't really listen to anyone.”

 

“Yeah,” Matty sighs. “It doesn't surprise me one bit.”

 

They get to know each other even more over these exchanges, and Mitch realizes, halfway through April, that he’s in love with Auston Matthews. It comes at an inconvenient time, this sort of light bulb moment, because Mitch is in the middle of the playoffs run and busy captaining his team to the Memorial Cup.

 

Nevertheless, Mitch is happy about it. He doesn't remember ever being in love—unless one counts the crush he had on a girl named Eve in, like, kindergarten—so it’s a nice new emotion to explore. Mitch isn’t emotionally stunted like Chucky, who prefers to express his feelings with his fists, or like Stromer, who prefers to express his feelings not at all (hence the Davo situation, but that’s another story).

 

Then, on April 30th, the Leafs manage to win the fucking draft lottery, something that nobody, not even Steve Dangle, whom Mitch follows religiously if a bit ashamedly, seems to believe.

 

Mitch screams when he finds out, because _he’s going to play with Auston Matthews_ , which is a pretty sweet gig. He’s also going to play with the guy he’s been mooning over for months, which isn’t a bad thing at all.

 

Mitch sends Matty thirty-four fireworks emoji, a poodle and a champagne bottle.

 

Matty replies with a bunch of blue hearts and the bashful smile emoji, which Mitch finds way too charming for his own mental health.

 

And sure, neither of them is 100% certain that Matty is going to go first or that the Leafs are going to pick him, but the chances that Mitch might be able to play with, instead of against, Auston Matthews, have just gone up exponentially and Mitch is excited. Really excited. Probably way too much, because it’s not like they’re dating, for all that Matty is often flirty and so is Mitch. Hell, they haven’t even exchanged dick pics—“Good job at adulting there, Marns,” Stromer had commented, like he has any room to lecture Mitch about proper sexting etiquette.

 

Anyway, Matty is probably going to be a Leaf and that’s going to be excellent. And if he and Mitch were to pick up from where they left off in Helsinki, Mitch isn’t going to complain. Now, however, he’s got to focus on getting to the Memmer.

 

**Summer-Fall 2016**

Winning the Memorial Cup and the MVP Trophy is fantastic, and Mitch basks into the glory of his achievements for the entire summer. He also spends a lot of time with Stromer, who is bitchy about missing the Memmer for all of a month, and Davo, who is going to be bitchy about the Calder in perpetuity. He also trains hard, because he wants to make the Leaf roster this season—he’s grown a bit and he’s heavier than he was a year ago. Plus, he really wants to play with Auston Matthews.

 

Auston Matthews who, according to plan, gets drafted by the Leafs.

 

There is a sense of elation and tentative hope in Toronto that summer, like great things are about to happen after a disastrous season and an even more disastrous decade. Mitch can feel it in the air every time he walks around. He doesn't share this tidbit with Matty, however. If there is something his friendship with Davo has taught him is that saddling teenagers with unreasonable expectations is just plain wrong. Davo spent most of his rookie year waking up in the middle of the night from terrifying nightmares and calling Dylan or Mitch, depending on their schedules, to have someone to calm him down. Mitch doesn't want that to happen to Matty.

 

To be fair, Toronto is not Edmonton. Nevertheless, Toronto is the heartland of hockey worldwide, and the Toronto Maple Leafs are at its center. Matty is going to be under pressure from the moment he steps off the plane.

 

They see each other for rookie camp and it’s like no time has passed at all. Matty hugs Mitch so hard Mitch’s feet leave the ground, but Mitch laughs delighted.

 

“Show off,” he says, swatting him on the shoulder.

 

“I just wanted to make sure you’d actually gained those two inches and twenty pounds,” Matty smirks.

 

“Asshole,” Mitch smiles. “Come, meet the rest of the rookies.”

 

It’s a good group and it’s important that Matty gets to know them now, because he’s not going to be at training camp in September, what with having made the roster for Team North America _back in May_ , before he was even drafted.

 

“What’s the gossip?” Matty asks Mitch as they get ready for their first practice.

 

“I could go in so many directions with that,” Mitch smirks.

 

“About the rookies, Marns,” Matty rolls his eyes.

 

“Didn't do your homework, eh?” Mitch chirps him.

 

“You know, like, half of them, Marns, don’t even front it,” Matty says.

 

“Not half, what the fuck,” Mitch says. “I haven’t played with every guy in Canada.”

 

“But you follow the Leafs and the Marlies religiously,” Matty points out.

 

“Something you should have been doing, too, once the draft lottery took place,” Mitch says.

 

“Because by then the Leafs were still playing,” Matty says, but quietly, because they’re both on the fucking team, now.

 

Mitch looks at him aghast before bursting out laughing.

 

“I know Brownie from the O, that’s Connor Brown,” Mitch explains. “And everyone has heard of the Nylander dynasty, even people living under a cactus. Zach Hyman seems super chill from what I’ve heard. We got Kapanen from the Kessel trade last year, and he’s been playing well with the Marlies. Carrick is technically a rookie, but he’s been playing in the AHL for a while, and I don't actually know him.”

 

“Mmm,” Matty says, looking around. “There is a lot of potential.”

 

“Yep,” Mitch agrees. “And that is without counting the veterans. I am sure you’ll get to know Rielly when you play with him in September, but he’s a really cool guy.”

 

“I am sure,” Matty echoes.

 

Rookie camp goes well. Mike Babcock is intimidating as fuck, but the rest of the guys are really cool and Matty is there to provide Mitch with a solid sounding board.

 

Plus, they start hooking up again pretty quickly for all that by the end of each day they’re both exhausted.

 

“Maybe we should try sex when we’re not in the middle of a major hockey commitment,” Mitch suggests one evening, towards the end of camp.

 

“There is a novel idea,” Matty says, getting out of the bathroom of the room he technically shares with Hymie, who’s currently spending some quality time with William Nylander.

 

“Come on, Matty, we still haven’t even fucked,” Mitch whines.

 

“Then what do you call what we've been doing so far? Foreplay?” Matty smirks, tossing Mitch a wet wash cloth.

 

“Don't be dense, Matthews, it doesn't suit you,” Mitch says, cleaning himself up quickly before getting dressed. He doesn't stick around to cuddle—what with this actually being Hymie’s room and Mitch trying to make the crush go back to bros-with-benefits realm.

 

“Tell you what,” Matty says, lying down on the bed in all his naked glory. “I will fuck you when you score your first NHL goal.”

 

Mitch chokes on his spit before turning towards Matty, who’s looking at him with a satisfied smile.

 

“Oh, you will, won’t you?” Mitch says.

 

“It seems like a reasonable offer,” Matty shrugs.

 

“Is this a two way offer?” Mitch asks, because although he’s not averse to being fucked—or at least, he doesn't think he is. He’s never done it, though—he wouldn't be opposed to stick his dick into Matty’s glorious ass.

 

Matty seems surprised by Mitch’s question, but he’s clearly interested, if his hardening cock is any indication.

 

“I’ll take it as a yes,” Mitch smiles smugly.

 

“Does the World Cup of Hockey count?” Matty asks.

 

“Absolutely not,” Mitch says, putting on his shoes and trying to make sure his hair is somewhat tamed. “Leveled playing field, dude. Otherwise it’s not fair.”

 

“Fine,” Matty sighs. “We’ll wait until the season starts. For that,” he adds, making it very clear that he expects them to continue with the blowjobs, handjobs, frottage and everything else they’ve been doing that doesn't involve penetrative sex. Like Mitch is going to have a problem with that.

 

“You know where to find me, dude,” Mitch says, trying to tamper down the excitement at the idea that Matty wants this, whatever this is, to continue.

 

The fact that they never sit down to discuss what this is? Well, it’s not like Mitch doesn't know how badly that is going to backfire. Whatever. They’re still teenagers and horny and Mitch is as good as any horny teenager at not taking about feelings.

**Fall-Winter 2016**

Making the Leafs roster is a dream come true for Mitch. Sure, he knows he’s good—Mark Hunter would have never campaigned so hard for the Leafs to use a forth draft pick on him if he weren’t—but the problems about his size are never going to go away, regardless of the fact that Mitch might have reached the 6 foot mark. And really, it all depends on how he positions himself when he gets measured, so there is that little problem.

 

Still, he’s on the roster, he’s got the jersey to go with it, and he’s making friends with all the guys on the team. Matt Martin in particular is a surprise—an enforcer from the Islanders that the Leafs got to protect all the young talent. Marty takes Mitch under his wing and doesn't let go, like, ever. It’s quite sweet.

 

Even sweeter is all the sex Mitch and Matty manage to get around to once Team North America is kicked out of the World Cup. There are consolation blowjobs, because Mitch is a nice guy, and then there are rewarding handjobs, because Matty played very well and he deserves lots of rewards.

 

They also hang out without the sex, which is something they’ve done only long distance, and they do it with or without other teammates.

 

Once Babs puts Matty on a line with William Nylander and Zach Hyman, and sparks fly, Willy and Hyms tag along with Mitch and Matty more often. Mitch, who is going just as well with Bozie and JVR, has his own bonding time with his lineys, and he spends a lot of time with Marty, who’s decided to adopt Mitch.

 

Even more surprising to Mitch is how quickly he bonds with Connor Brown. The former Otter is a quiet dude with an unflappable personality in stark contrast with his fiery red hair. He’s also an adorable drunk, who’s more than happy to spill the beans on Davo and Stromer any time Mitch asks him.

 

“I don't believe you. Did they really spend a night in a closet because they missed curfew?” Mitch asks astonished when Brownie recounts this precious gem. They’re at Brownie’s place, because he’s one of two people on the team who knows how to cook, and Mitch didn't want to bother his mom tonight.

 

“Yeah,” Brownie smiles at the memory. “They’d sneaked out because Davo wanted fries.”

 

“And Dyls indulges Davo whenever possible,” Mitch nods sagely, knowing very well what Brownie’s talking about.

 

“Precisely. Anyway, by the time they got back, one of the trainers was patrolling the corridor of this shitty hotel in the middle of Pennsylvania, so they hid in a utility closet. For whatever reason, the guy stuck around for an inordinate amount of time. Davo fell asleep, Stromer fell asleep, and by the time morning came, we were missing our two star players.”

 

“And they didn't get benched?” Mitch asks.

 

“Coach didn't find out,” Connor explains. “We retrieved them in time to catch the bus and Dylan put a moratorium on night outings.”

 

“Which I am sure he stuck to religiously,” Mitch says, because Stromer is notoriously a stickler for the rules. Not.

 

“Yeah, right,” Brownie snorts. “They were out again on the next road trip. The thing that amazes me the most is how Davo was mostly the instigator, with Dylan tagging along to make sure we didn't lose McJesus.”

 

“It happened at the draft, too,” Mitch laughs. “And this summer. It’s amazing how good Davo is at making everyone believe he’s this lovely good Canadian boy.”

 

“Worked so far,” Brownie points out, quite rightly.

 

“No shit,” Mitch says.

 

Pre-season is exciting, but the first game is … well. Mitch is really looking forward to tapping that ass four times, that’s all he’s got to say about it.

 

The locker room in Ottawa is crazy. Everyone is congratulating Matty. Willy is draped over him like a blanket, the Connors pretend to bring him offerings worthy of the Greek gods, and the As look more excited than they’ve had since they got drafted or traded to the Leafs.

 

Even Babs, who’s very good at being serious, cannot help but cracking a smile or two at this historic moment.

 

“If you really wanted it that much, you just had to ask,” Mitch tells Matty once they’re done showering.

 

Matty actually blushes once he realizes what Mitch is implying.

 

“What?” he says. “No, what the fuck?”

 

“Oh,” Mitch says, trying not to look too disappointed.

 

“No, no,” Matty hastens to reassure him. “I haven’t changed my mind. But the four goals … they’re not … I didn't mean to suggest …”

 

Matty gets progressively more flustered as Mitch’s smile becomes wider and sleazier.

 

“You’re such a dick,” Matty whines eventually, giving up on trying to explain that his four-goal game had nothing to do with desperately wanting to get fucked by Mitch Marner.

 

Mitch’s grin gets even bigger. “We’re going to have so much fun,” he says.

 

They have to wait, because they’ve got to go back to Toronto for the home opener, where Mitch scores his first goal, in the ACC, before Leaf Nation and his family—well, his mom is in the restroom, but it’s the thought that counts.

 

After that, there are more games and the pace is exhausting, but finally, once they get a three-day break where the biggest commitment they have is an afternoon practice the day after tomorrow, Mitch sends his mom back home, and tells Matty to pack a bag.

 

“A bag,” Matty says.

 

To be fair, they don't usually stay over. Actually, they don't usually even have sex in the evening or at night, because they’re not road roomies and Auston lives with his dad. But this is a _big deal_ and Mitch wants to take his time and enjoy it.

 

Even if Auston is definitely not as into Mitch as Mitch is into Auston—it hasn't escaped Mitch that Auston is very good at hooking up, whether he’s in on the road or in Toronto.

 

Even if Mitch cannot really say anything until they have _that talk_.

 

Even if for all that he’s completely smitten with Auston Matthews, Mitch really doesn't want to have that talk.

 

“What. You wanna bang and leave?” Mitch asks.

 

“Not really,” Matty acknowledges.

 

“Then pack a fucking bag, Matthews. We’re not getting married, for fuck’s sake.”

 

Matty snorts but nods.

 

“Do I need to bring anything?” he asks, always the polite guest. He’s often more Canadian than Mitch.

 

“You may bring whatever you like,” Mitch smirks. “I can’t promise you we’re going to use it.”

 

Matty blushes, something Mitch doesn't think he’ll ever grow out of, but nods.

 

That night finds them in Mitch’s room, fully dressed, surrounded by three different types of lube and two boxes of condoms.

 

“Overachieving much?” Matty says.

 

“Unless I am mistaken, neither of us has done this before, so I figured we’d better be safe than sorry,” Mitch reminds him.

 

“That’s actually a good point,” Matty nods. “Though I did some research on line.”

 

“Porn doesn't count as research,” Mitch comments, grabbing one of the lubes—the most expensive one he could find, because he figured he might as well invest some of his hard-earned money into preserving the integrity of his body. And Matty’s.

 

“It wasn't porn,” Matty sputters. “There are websites that explain this shit.”

 

“Yeah, Matty,” Mitch smiles. “I did some research, too.”

 

“So, how do you want to do this?” Matty asks after a second.

 

Mitch rolls his eyes. “Maybe we can try for spontaneity instead of drawing a play beforehand.”

 

Matty blushes furiously, but looks Mitch straight in the eyes.

 

“No, I want you to fuck me,” he says resolutely. “I was more asking about positions.”

 

Mitch, whose stomach is currently visiting his throat because of Matty’s quiet request, swallows loudly.

 

“Let’s still try to be spontaneous, here,” he says. “We can figure out the best position for you once we get closer to the main event.”

 

Mitch is quite surprised at their willingness to be open about this when they don't talk about anything else regarding what they’re doing. But, he figures, this is major and it requires a lot of trust.

 

“If I do anything at all that you don't like,” Mitch says, as he starts unbuttoning Matty’s jeans, “you tell me.”

 

“Same,” Matty replies, removing Mitch’s t-shirt and pushing him on the bed, because he’s never met a play he doesn't want to quarterback.

 

Mitch lets Matty take the lead for a bit, allowing him to undress them both, and relishing in the attention he pays to him.

 

When Matty begins trailing a series of bites along Mitch’s neck, which are designed to drive him mad with want, Mitch changes the game.

 

Tonight is for Matty—he’s decided it long ago, when Matty said he was open to do this with him—and Mitch will be damned if he’s going to be sidetracked.

 

“What …” Matty says when Mitch flips them over by using his position to his advantage.

 

“Shush …” he says, laying Auston out for his viewing pleasure.

 

“Mitchy,” Auston says, but Mitch puts his index finger on Matty’s soft lips and repeats his shushing sound.

 

Auston seems to get the message, because he relaxes into the bed, arms along his sides, and legs slightly parted.

 

Mitch begins his exploration of Auston’s body from his nipples, a sensitive spot Mitch usually avoids because it drives Auston crazy and they always want things to last.

 

Tonight, however, it’s imperative that Auston be as relaxed as possible, so Mitch spends a good amount of time sucking and biting Auston’s nipples s until they’re red and puffy.

 

Sweats breaks on Auston’s forehead and his right hand grabs Mitch’s neck, though whether to stop him or keep him going is unclear.

 

“Trust me?” Mitch asks, looking at Auston, who looks back panting hard.

 

“Always,” Auston replies.

 

Mitch continues to work one of Auston’s nipples while, with his right hand, he opens the lube and smears his fingers with it. Then, slowly, and telegraphing his intentions as clearly as possible, he reaches for Auston’s dick, his balls and then lower, for Auston’s most secret place.

 

Auston’s breath hitches when Mitch moves his index finger around his hole, but he doesn't tense, attention seemingly focused on how Mitch is still playing with his nipples.

 

“Do it, Mitchy,” Auston whispers, but Mitch isn’t about to be rushed. He wasn't kidding when he said he researched this. Patience and preparation are of the essence, and Auston might hate it, so Mitch isn’t about to traumatize him by just sticking his fingers in just because Auston thinks he can take it.

 

He does, however, gently ease his index finger into Auston’s hole and begins to loosen up the muscles there.

 

“Mitchy,” Auston breathes, raising his hips.

 

“Too much?” Mitch asks, stopping his movement and looking at Auston.

 

“Not enough,” Auston pants, hair completely matted by sweat.

 

Mitch isn’t faring much better, the strain of controlling himself while Auston is giving himself over so generously doing a number on his body and his heart.

 

“Okay,” Mitch says, kissing Auston’s stomach. “Relax for me.”

 

Auston obeys and Mitch lowers himself and kisses Auston’s abs as he continues to loosen Auston’s muscles. Once he’s gotten some confidence, he explores a bit until he finds the bundle of nerves supposedly at the origins of all earthly pleasures.

 

Matty confirms that theory with a horse scream.

 

“Mitchy,” he says, the other hand grabbing Mitch’s shoulder.

 

 _Bingo,_ Mitch thinks. He then takes Auston’s into his mouth while he adds a second finger and continues stretching him.

 

Auston comes in Mitch’s mouth without a warning, unusually silent.

 

Mitch swallows as much of Auston’s come as he can before letting go of his dick, two of his fingers still in Auston’s ass.

 

“Are you okay?” he asks, wiping his mouth on Auston’s leg.

 

“Are you for real?” Auston replies, looking at Mitch like he’s insane—not an unusual look, but not one that often appears in bed.

 

“Born and bred,” Mitch smirks.

 

At that, Auston drags Mitch up, forcing him to ease his fingers out to avoid serious damage, and kisses him within an inch of his life.

 

Mitch has been hard since Matty came over, but he wants to come in Auston, not on him, so he does his best to keep a lid on his emotions.

 

“We aren’t done,” Auston says, panting.

 

“No, we aren’t,” Mitch agrees. “But now you’re loose, and it’s going to be easier for both of us.”

 

Matty nods. “How do you want me?”

 

Mitch looks down at him.

 

“Confortable,” he answers, sure. “But I wanna see you,” he adds, feeling a blush coloring his cheeks.

 

Auston smiles his happy smile and nods. “Let me do the work, now?”

 

Mitch nods too and finds himself laying on the bed, his head and shoulders held up by a bunch of pillows.

 

Auston grabs a condom and prepares Mitch before straddling him.

 

“Matty,” Mitch says when Auston begins to lower himself on Mitch’s dick.

 

“I am fine,” Auston says.

 

He doesn't look fine, Mitch thinks. He looks like he just double-shifted during a playoff game, sweaty and disheveled, though Mitch supposes one doesn't get covered with come while playing a playoff game.

 

He looks fantastic, his leg muscles straining as he sets the pace so that the stretch isn’t too much.

 

Mitch looks at Auston’s face and realizes that Auston’s attention is completely focused on Mitch.

 

“I am fine, Marns,” Auston reassures him. “Let me do this for you.”

 

“For us,” Mitch says.

 

Auston’s pupils widen even more than they’ve had since he’s come, but he nods and he lowers himself on Mitch’s dick. He takes his time, making sure this is bearable for both of them. Mitch is honestly hanging by a thread, because Auston is _hot_ , and _tight_ and _soft_ at the same time, and Mitch doesn't even know how to describe what being inside him does to his heart.

 

“Jesus, Matty,” he whispers, “you feel so fucking good.”

 

“Not as good as you do, Marns,” Auston replies as Mitch’s dick disappears completely into Auston. “Not as good as you do.”

 

“Matty,” Mitch whines, grabbing onto the sheets because he doesn't want to seem greedy.

 

“What do you need, Mitchy?” Auston asks sounding wrecked. His dick is hard again, Mitch notices absentmindedly. “Anything, Mitchy. Anything.”

 

“Kiss me?” Mitch asks.

 

Auston readily complies, taking Mitch’s face into his hands and devouring his mouth with a desperate kiss.

 

“Move, Mitch, please,” Auston begs as Mitch grabs onto Auston’s massive shoulders to keep him from moving away from him.

 

Mitch obeys, because he doesn't think he could deny Auston anything right now. It’s not the best of positions, because Auston has forty pounds of muscles on him, not to mention quite a few inches. However, there is enough room between the two of them that Mitch can use his legs and his abs to create some friction.

 

Auston catches on quickly and moves to meet Mitch’s thrusts, his mouth never leaving Mitch’s.

 

“Auston,” Mitch breathes, his left hand grabbing Auston’s hair at the back of his neck.

 

“I’m right here,” Auston says. “I am right here, babe. Right here.”

 

The words are all Mitch needs. His mind explodes in a riot of colors and it goes blissfully quiet for a moment before Mitch feels Auston tensing around him, spurts of come covering them both once again.

 

Afterwards, Auston collapses onto Mitch, who doesn't let him go, his left hand still holding onto Auston’s hair, his right one around Auston’s shoulders.

 

Auston hides his face into Mitch’s neck, though he tries not to squash Mitch completely.

 

As their breaths and hearts slow down, Mitch feels himself soften in Auston and he hates it. He doesn't want this to stop. It’s the closer he’s ever felt to a person. It’s the closer he’s ever felt to Auston.

 

“Matty,” he says.

 

“I know,” Auston replies, squeezing the hand Mitch has in his hair.

 

“Matty,” Mitch repeats, as he slides out of him, slowly, because Auston must be sore.

 

“I know, Mitchy,” Auston echoes, kissing Mitch below his ear. “I know.

Mitch doesn't know how he’s coming back from this. He doesn't think he can.

 

That night opens the floodgates, and Mitch and Auston start spending more and more time together by themselves. They incorporate cuddling into their lovemaking, because Mitch is a cuddle-whore and it turns out that Auston likes to indulge him when he can. They also start to have sex on the road, which means that Brownie and Hymie learn more about the sex life of their teammates that they probably ever wanted to.

 

They don't always have sex, however—first because hockey takes up way too much of their energies, and second because it becomes blatantly obvious that Auston Matthews needs careful tutoring in CoD in order to avoid eternal chirping (Leo is especially relentless). Mitch volunteers for the task. He considers it to be a service for the betterment of mankind.

 

They’re clearly much more in sync, and the sex they have brings them closer and makes them more attuned to each other. The singing on the bench is a good example of it, as are the coordinated outfits. And sure, they have been having sex for a while, but there is something about giving yourself completely to a person that, to Mitch, has a deeper meaning. Maybe he’s just old fashioned.

 

So Mitch lets himself fall more and more in love with Auston, because Auston is attentive and careful and he treats Mitch like he’s the best thing that ever happened to him.

 

The first time Auston fucks him is as devastatingly breathtaking as the first time Mitch fucked Auston, and it _terrifies_ Mitch. They’re so good together, so well suited, so perfectly matched. It seems impossible to Mitch they’re not, like, soulmates or something equally cheesy.

 

And yet. And yet, for all that they’re getting closer and closer to each other, what doesn't change is how good they are at not talking about what the fuck it is that they’re doing.

 

Mitch knows it’s not a ‘relationship’, because Auston is often very clear about the fact that he’s not interested in one, both when he discusses the topic with his teammates or with Mitch himself. He even took one of those stupid personality tests and he scored, like, minus 10 in the ‘suitable for a committed relationship’ spectrum. Mitch scored 101 in a scale from 0 to 100. The less said about it, the better.

 

Also, sometimes, when they’re out with the team, Auston disappears, and Mitch doesn't see him until practice the next day or when he deigns to text him to hang out. It doesn't take a rocket scientist for Mitch to figure out where Auston is, although he never gets to see who he is with, thankfully. He never brings it up, however, because that’s not something they do. Neither does Auston, nor does he ever apologize or explain what he’s doing. It’s yet another thing they don't discuss.

 

Brownie, on the other hand, feels compel to discuss this with Mitch in detail.

 

“Because I might be Matty’s roomie,” he explains. “But Otters are for life,” he adds nonsensically.

 

“I am not an Otter,” Mitch reminds him, just in case Brownie forgot.

 

They’re at Brownie’s, where Mitch was lured by a promise of homemade pizza and good beer. Both were delivered, but Brownie has decided to fret. Davo is the same and Mitch wonders if it’s a features the Otters drill in their captains.

 

“Bullshit,” Brownie objects, offering Mitch another beer. Luckily, Mitch Ubered over, so he can indulge.

 

“It’s not bullshit, Connor,” Mitch points out. “I was a London Knight.”

 

“You’re a honorary Otter,” Brownie insists. “I confirmed this with Davo and Stromer. Even Burky is on board.”

 

“Burakovski?” Mitch asks surprised. It’s not like he knows the guy super-well. “What’s up with you guys?”

 

“I told you: Otters for life,” Brownie smiles satisfied.

 

Mitch despairs of what Erie does to people, sometimes.

 

“Doesn't mean we have to talk about me and Matty,” Mitch grumbles.

 

“You should be thankful it’s only me,” Brownie says. “Zach wanted to come, too, but I told him you’d feel ambushed.”

 

“Right,” Mitch says. “Because right now I don't.”

 

“Look,” Brownie says, ignoring Mitch’s sarcasm. “I don't know what the deal is between you guys, and it’s none of my business.”

 

“Indeed,” Mitch interjects.

 

“But …” Here Brownie stops, blushes and then pales in rapid succession.

 

Mitch sympathizes. Really, he does. Brownie is a good soul, and he’s probably trying to find a tactful way to tell Mitch he’s not the only one that Auston allows in his bed.

 

“We’re not together, Brownie,” Mitch says gently. “We’re not dating, we’re not courting and we’re certainly not exclusive.”

 

“Oh,” Brownie exhales, relieved, “you know about that, then. Thank god.”

 

Mitch doesn't think any deity should be bothered, or thanked for that matter, about this, but he appreciates where Brownie’s coming from.

 

“Yep,” Mitch confirms.

 

“How do you deal with it?” Brownie asks, genuinely confused.

 

“What do you mean?” Mitch replies.

 

“I am sorry if I am overstepping, here, but your crush is visible from Pluto,” Brownie says. “I wouldn't be able to handle it.”

 

It’s Mitch’s turn to pale, and words fail him. He had not realized he was being so obvious.

 

“Jesus, I am messing this up,” Brownie says, sounding ever more apologetic. “Maybe I should call Hymie.”

 

“You are fine,” Mitch says. “You just took me by surprise,” he adds. “I didn't think I was so obvious.”

 

“You’re not,” Brownie says after a moment. “I think I just noticed because I started spending a lot of time thinking about it, what with the room changes and the way you guys are with each other.”

 

“Let’s hope you’re the only observant one on the team,” Mitch sighs.

 

“Zach knows, too,” Brownie admits with an apologetic expression. “For the same reasons.”

 

“Do you spend your sexiled evenings discussing me and Matty?” Mitch asks, because that’d be weird.

 

“No, we don't,” Brownie looks suitably horrified. “We talked about it, like, once. We pinky-swore we were going to keep it between us and offer you support when you needed it.”

 

There are three things that attract Mitch’s attention in that sentence, in no particular order.

 

Thing number one: Brownie and Zach _pinky-swore_. Which, what the fuck is _wrong_ with Erie—it bears asking, twice, though Zach went to UMich, so Mitch is going to have to ask Werenski and Larks about that.

 

Thing number two: both seem inclined to offer Mitch, and not Matty, support. It does say a lot about who they think is going to crush and burn. It’s nothing new to Mitch, of course, but it kind of sucks that it can be observed from the outside.

 

Thing number three: Brownie said when and not if. And, granted, Mitch’s grammar is not the best on good days, but even he can figure out that ‘if’ designates a possibility whereas ‘when’ indicates a certainty.

 

When he brings up these three valid points to Brownie, Brownie pales again.

 

“That’s it, I am calling Zach. I clearly suck at this.”

 

And, honest, Brownie doesn't suck at all, but Mitch lets him call in reinforcements, because Brownie is being a good friend, and Mitch wasn't really expecting him and Zach Hyman to care about his wellbeing.

 

Besides Brownie and Zach’s ‘intervention’, things continue to go well for Mitch. He’s having the time of his life playing for his childhood team, he’s having regular sex with the person he loves, the same person he’s progressively becoming his closest friend in the world—Stromer doesn't know, yet.

 

He also has some money to spare to buy his mom a car, his brother some cool gear and his dad some tools for the shed. Winston also gets plenty of new toys, though, in typical dog fashion, his seems more interested in Mitch’s new shoes than in his own new toys.

 

Things are awesome. Winning the Stadium Series against the Red Wings on New Year’s Day is awesome, the sex that follows that is even more awesome and Mitch … Mitch is just happy.

 

It doesn't change the fact that he feels like he’s living on borrowed time.

**Spring 2017**

 

“I think Hymie and Brownie might have figured us out,” Matty says one evening after another hard loss. It’s early March and they are on their West Coast roadie. They’re leaving in the morning to go back home, so Auston asked Brownie if he was okay with moving into Zach’s room.

 

“You don’t say,” Mitch deadpans, raising his head and looking at Matty in the eye.

 

“Well, he gave me a look,” Matty explains, like he thinks Mitch doesn't believe him.

 

“Matty, buddy,” Mitch interrupts him. “Of course they’ve figured us out. How many time do you think can you ask one of them to switch rooms before they get suspicious?”

 

“Oh,” Matty says. “I guess.”

 

“You guess,” Mitch sighs.

 

Zach had pointed out that Auston is at times a bit clueless—apparently so is Willy, and Zach despairs of having been put on a line with two of the most clueless people he’s ever met. It looks like Zach might be right.

 

“Did they say anything to you?” Matty asks.

 

“Yeah, a while ago,” Mitch shrugs as much as possible considering that he’s currently plastered against Matty. “They got our back, they’re not going to say anything, and they don't want to know more than they already do.”

 

“That’s good,” Matty says.

 

“Which part?” Mitch asks getting into a seated position and looking at Matty.

 

“All of it,” Matty says.

 

“I thought you were okay with people knowing,” Mitch observes, referring to their long-ago conversation about Stromer and Boeser.

 

“That’s honestly the part that worries me the least,” Matty comments, passing both his hands through his hair in an attempt to rectify Mitch’s damage.

 

“I didn't know there was something to worry about,” Mitch says coldly.

 

“You’re misunderstanding me,” Auston says, extending his right arm and dragging Mitch back against him. “I just don't like people talking about this kind of things when it comes to my life.”

 

“As I said, Hyms and Brownie are definitely not talking about any of this,” Mitch says.

 

Then, because he’s a masochist, and a good bro, he adds, “We don't need to keep hooking up on the road, if this bothers you. It’s not like we don't do that at home often enough.”

 

“You wouldn't mind?” Matty asks.

 

Mitch needs to be careful, here, because they’re steering very close to ‘talking about it’ and he’d rather keep some of Matty than no Matty at all.

 

“I can live without your dick for more than 48 hours, Matthews, so yes, I wouldn't mind,” he says with an exaggerated sigh. “I am not so sure _you_ will be able to survive without this hot bod,” he adds, moving sensuously against Matty.

 

“Trust me,” Matty laughs, not realizing how hurtful he’s being. “I am going to be just fine.”

 

Mitch ignores him, thinks about cluelessness, and gets up to grab his computer.

 

They spend the rest of the evening cuddling in Mitch’s bed and catching up on Netflix shows and on gossip around the league they’ve heard from Davo, Eichs and Werenski.

 

When Auston falls asleep, Mitch disentangles himself from his grip and goes to the bathroom to take a shower.

 

He doesn't really know what to do anymore, to be honest. Matty might think he’s been crystal clear about the status of their non-relationship, and Mitch is letting him run the show as he sees fit. However, there is way too much cuddling between the two of them—always has been, even in Helsinki, but especially since November—for a bro-relationship, even with the inherent touching that comes with being hockey players.

 

The cuddling is the least of their problem, anyway. The sex has become progressively more intimate. They’re careful with each other—more than they’ve been during the first part of the season. They’re gentle, and thoughtful and mindful of each other’s needs and wants and it breaks Mitch’s heart every time, because it’s good, and sweet and lovely, and he doesn't know what to do with himself anymore.

 

When they get back to Toronto, Mitch realizes that they’re going to spend the majority of what is left of the season on the road, and he curses his stupid heart for offering Auston a way out.

 

That turns out to be the least of Mitch’s problems, however, because soon thereafter he starts feeling crappy. He’s tired all the time, his throat is scratchy and he hurts in strange places. When the team doctors diagnose him with mono, Mitch doesn't know if to laugh or cry. Because the shoulder injury hadn't been awful enough. Because he needed another reason not to be intimate with Auston.

 

“Mono,” Auston says when Mitch tells him.

 

“Yep,” Mitch confirms.

 

“Are you kidding me?” Auston asks.

 

“Do I look like I am kidding you?” Mitch asks, looking at Auston like he thinks he’s an idiot.

 

“I am sorry,” Auston says. “Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Mitch says. “They told me that I can play as long as I feel like it. And I am fine, really.”

 

“Thank god,” Auston says, side-hugging him.

 

“I’m off everything else, however,” Mitch informs him.

 

“What … oh, right,” Auston says, clueing into the ramifications of Mitch having mono.

 

“And you should probably get checked out, too,” Mitch adds. “Though I think the trainers are on that already.”

 

“Shit,” Auston says. “I didn't even think about that.”

 

Mitch smiles and shakes his head.

 

“Not something one is accustomed to thinking about,” he points out, stifling a yawn.

 

“You need to rest, and I am keeping you up,” Auston says solicitous

 

“You can stay a bit and keep me company,” Mitch smiles winningly.

 

“Are you sure?” Auston asks hesitant.

 

Mitch smiles again, and leans his head against Auston’s shoulder. He doesn't remember falling asleep.

 

The next few weeks suck so bad Mitch thinks they’re even worst than when he was told he needed another year in the O. Mono is mono, which is not a big deal, unless you are a professional athlete in the middle of trying to qualify for the playoffs and then trying to stay in said playoffs.

 

Mitch feels like he’s playing like crap, and his stats support his assessment.

 

Babs is super-nice about the whole thing, keeps telling him to do the best he can, and that he’s going to get better.

 

Matty is also super-nice, coming over to Mitch’s often, especially when Mitch’s mom goes back home. Sometimes he brings some food his dad cooked for Mitch and, once Ema Matthews also arrives in Toronto, some of her fabulous dishes. Mitch is in love.

 

Mitch is also very confused, because for as attentive as Auston is, he stops initiating any form of physical contact. It’d be fine if he were trying to avoid catching mono, but hugging doesn't allow for the transmission of the disease, and neither does cuddling.

 

This, however, seems in contradiction with Auston coming over and keeping Mitch company when he’s feeling crappy.

 

The confusion sort of lifts when Mitch is cleared completely, because Auston doesn’t initiate sex even when he knows Mitch’s recovered completely. And Mitch, who’s spent most of his non-relationship with Auston following his lead, follows suit.

 

Mitch doesn't have a lot of time to think about what the hell happened, however, because once the Leafs are out of the playoffs, he’s selected to represent Canada at World. Auston bows out of that, and by the time they say goodbye to each other, Mitch cannot help but thinking that the end of them happened while he wasn't even looking.

 

**Summer 2017**

Mitch and Auston don’t break up, because it’s not a break up if you were never together to begin with. It remains that, if Mitch hadn’t realized that Auston was done with him by the end of their playoff run, he gets the message once he’s in Europe and the only thing he gets from Auston is radio-silence. It’s the first time this happens since they’ve met in December of 2015, and it hurts.

 

Mitch channels all his sadness, anger and disappointment in the tournament and coming home to silver is somewhat of a consolation prize. It doesn't help him feeling better, however, especially once it becomes clear that Auston is basically planning to ignore him for the entire summer, which he spends in the company of progressively more gorgeous women. Pity he forgot to send Mitch a memo about this.

 

Still, Mitch gets the message, or lack thereof. After all, Auston had made it very clear for the entirety of their non-relationship, or whatever the fuck they were doing when they did it, that he doesn't actually _do_ relationships and he doesn't want to get tied down by one person by the time he’s nineteen—or twenty, as the case might be.

 

Mitch spends the summer growing up, or at least he hopes he does. If there is something that he learned in the past year and a half is that when he loves, he loves completely and boundlessly, selflessly and carelessly.

 

Whereas this might be an excellent approach when it comes to family and friends, Mitch is no longer sure it might be the right thing to do with a partner. Not so soon. Not so much. Not so desperately. And granted, he never thought Auston Matthews loved him. But he also never thought Auston Matthews didn’t love him—enough to at least not treat him like a disposable piece of ass.

 

Brownie comes to visit in mid-July and they decide to take a three day trip to the beach, because why not. It’s not the smartest idea either of them ever had, and their so-called tans are the butt of everyone’s joke back home, but they have fun. Mitch doesn't cry once.

 

“I sure as hell hope so,” Brownie tells him when Mitch explains that to him on their last day at the beach. “I am a delight to be around.”

 

“A delight?” Mitch asks, eyebrows arching behind his baller sunglasses, bough especially for this trip, because he figured he might as well treat himself. “You’ve been spending too much time with Willy.”

 

“That’s Hyms,” Brownie replies with a knowing smirk—Mitch rolls his eyes and scoffs, because the drama on the Leaf roster is only comparable to the Venezuelan soaps his great-aunt Laurie loves to watch.

 

“Ask everyone,” Brownie insists. “Ask Freddie.”

 

Mitch assumes it’s about Connor being a delight and not about Hyms spending too much time with Willy, though Freddie would probably know about that, as well.

 

Mitch wrinkles his nose, because sure, he likes Freddie a lot, but he’s not as confortable around him as he is around other veterans. Sometimes Mitch is afraid of even hugging him, and Freddie’s hugs are like catnip. It’s the goalie mystical aura, something that Mitch needs to get over come next season. Plus Freddie is friends with Auston, so.

 

“Are you sure it’s a good idea for you to be in the sun?” Mitch changes the subject. He really doesn't want to dwell on the fact that he hasn't been crying.

 

“I mean,” Brownie says, looking at Mitch’s red shoulders. “I don't know if I want to take advice from someone who forgot to put on sunscreen.”

 

“A delight, eh?” Mitch repeats.

 

Brownie flips him off and proceeds to catch Mitch up with Otter gossip, like he’s forgotten Mitch is friends with Dylan and Davo.

 

The rest of the summer goes pretty much is such a manner. Mitch hangs out with his friends, go on vacation with his family, attends a couple of weddings, since ‘tis the season’, and doesn't hear from Auston Matthews at all. The fucking tweet doesn't count, nor does Auston using a Mitch-meme for his account.

 

Stromer comes back from training camp and doesn't ask about Auston.

 

Davo comes back from the NHL Awards and doesn't ask about Auston.

 

Hymie comes to visit Mitch and doesn't ask about Auston.

 

Mitch starts suspecting Auston has put a moratorium on people discussing him with Mitch, but then he realizes Stromer would never agree to something like this.

 

“He’s an ass, Mitchy,” Stromer confirms one night in August. “I would gladly beat him to a pulp, but Davo wants to have some decent competition, and apparently Eichs is not up to the role he was cast in.”

 

Mitch looks at Dylan horrified, because that doesn't sound like Davo at all.

 

“I am paraphrasing, kind of,” Dylan smirks. “Though you have to admit the Sabers suck so bad it hurts.”

 

“So will the Oilers once Connor’s contract kicks in and they have no money for anything else,” Mitch reminds him.

 

“Point,” Dylan concedes. “There might be a hope for the ‘Yotes, yet.”

 

Mitch isn’t particularly optimistic about the ‘Yotes’ hopes. Also the Oilers are the favorite to win the cup this year—unless something goes majorly wrong.

 

“The Penguins are the team to beat, Marns,” Ryan Strome, who’s just become an Oiler, tells him. “Back to back champions in the salary cup era.”

 

Whatever. Mitch just hopes the Leafs have a better year than the last.

**Fall 2017**

Two things happen between the end of the summer and the beginning of training camp that change Mitch’s life for the better: he finally gets around to renting a place by himself and he gets a dog.

 

The apartment is a must—a much-needed space where he can find refuge from his well-meaning mother and overbearing father. It’s not a big apartment, not like Auston’s or Willy and Kappy’s. Still, it’s Mitch’s. It’s in a nice part of the city, close enough to the training facilities that he doesn't have to battle the traffic but far enough that he doesn't get the feeling he’s living at work.

 

The place has an old-world flavor for all that it’s in a modern building, with high ceilings—because who cares about the heating bill—and beautiful molding, a fireplace Mitch promised himself not to use because he doesn't want to burn the place down, and a bathroom with a huge tub. It’s also a good forty minutes from Auston’s place—something Auston bitches about extensively when he finds out, not cluing into the fact that it was a deliberate decision on Mitch’s part.

 

The dog is an accident, really, because there are two dogs at home already, and Mitch travels way too much to actually be owned by a pet. Also, Mitch would rather rescue a dog from the pound than get saddled with a pretentious-looking puppy. Unfortunately, Fate has other ideas.

 

His mom calls him in early September with a convoluted story about a cousin’s aunt’s asthma and how the King Charles Spaniel her children got her for her birthday is making it worst—here Mitch wonders, quite uncharitably, what the fuck these children were actually thinking of—and how nobody can really take the dog in.

 

“Mom,” Mitch objects, because he knows where this is going.

 

“Honey,” his mom stops him. “I don't know who else to ask. Everyone we know already has a dog or a cat or both.”

 

“I travel all the time, mom,” Mitch reminds here. “Like, literally, all the time.”

 

“But you’re also often home, and we’re close enough that you wouldn't have to completely rely on dog-sitters.”

 

“Mom,” Mitch tries again, because his mom had been the one against Mitch getting even a gold fish, last year.

 

“They’re cuddling dogs, honey. They really love to cuddle and they’re very loyal. Plus, they love small places and, as much as I am really happy with what we’ve done with your apartment, it could use with a little bit of life in it.”

 

“I can get some plants,” Mitch reminds her.

 

“You kill plants as a matter of course, Mitch,” his mom reminds him.

 

“And you want me to adopt a dog?” Mitch replies in disbelief.

 

“You’d never deliberately harm him, Mitch, don’t be ridiculous,” his mom says quite vehemently. “Now, get in the car and come over. Agnes is arriving in a couple of hours. She wants to make sure the dog actually likes you before giving it to you.”

 

“Does the dog have a name?” Mitch asks with a sigh. He can still say no, after all.

 

“No,” his mom explains. “Agnes’ mom was supposed to name him—it’s a boy, by the way, three months old—but since he’s not staying with her, there was no point. The breeder gave him a name, Stanley if you can believe it, but you can change it.”

 

Mitch snorts, because, yes, he definitely doesn't want a dog whose name reminds him of hockey on a regular basis. It’s not like his life isn’t already wrapped up into the sport anyway.

 

That’s how Mitch finds himself meeting his new dog on a lovely afternoon in early September.

 

Agnes, whom Mitch vaguely remembers from long-ago family reunions, is a delightful woman around his mom’s age, with red hair, blue eyes and a wonderful sense of humor.

 

It’s Stanley-for-now, however, that steals Mitch’s heart, because of course he does. After all, Mitch is a sucker for deep brown eyes, a shaggy haircut and interesting coloring.

 

Stanley-for-now’s mantle is completely chestnut—“He’s a Ruby Cavalier,” Agnes points out, because she’s as serious as shit about this stuff—except for a couple of white spots on his belly, and he fits into Mitch’s lap perfectly. Mitch loves him from the moment he meets him. That’s alright, however. Stanley-for-now is not Auston Matthews.

 

“Wow,” Agnes says, sipping a glass of ice tea. “He hasn't been this excited since we got him from the breeder.”

 

Mitch’s mom smiles proudly and explains to Agnes how Mitch has always had a golden touch with dogs—which is true, but really not the point.

 

Mitch lets her blab, because she’s his mom and he loves her. Plus, he’s more interested in his new friend, who seems as smitten with Mitch as Mitch is with him.

 

“You’re definitely not a Stanley, though, buddy,” Mitch tells him while the dog sniffs around and licks Mitch’s face enthusiastically.

 

“Yeah,” Agnes agrees. “We weren’t feeling it either, but we figured my mom would find something better.”

 

“What were you thinking, honey?” Mitch’s mom asks.

 

She knows her sons very well, and she’s not ashamed to go with the nuclear option when needed—everyone knows that once you name it, it’s yours.

 

Mitch ponders that for a bit while Stanley-for-now explores his parents’ living room before going back to Mitch and barking happily.

 

As it turns out, Mitch is a simple man with simple taste—not really surprising, here, he thinks, despite his admittedly complicated love life—so he decides to stick to something equally simple.

 

“How about Argo?” he asks the puppy, who barks excitedly.

 

“After the mythical ship that sailed to Colchis?” Agnes inquires, clearly impressed.

 

“I guess,” Mitch smiles sheepishly. “Though I was more thinking of the Toronto Argonauts.”

 

“Oh, right,” Mitch’s mom comments. “You’ve gotten friendly with some of them, haven’t you? It’s a lovely idea.”

 

“Great name, Mitch,” Agnes approves—because of the classical mythology reference, Mitch is certain of that.

 

“Woof,” Argo concurs, and Stanley is thereby a memory—at least as a dog name.

Argo is the perfect addition to Mitch’s household. He loves to cuddle, and he and Mitch spend hours together on the couch getting to know each other. He’s also an energetic dog, even more so as he is a puppy, so he can be very hyper. This suits Mitch just fine, because he often feels like he cannot sit still in his skin. Taking Argo on walks and short runs—where Argo gets carried more often than Mitch would like—is really therapeutic.

 

Plus, Argo is a very good listener—not that Brownie, Hymie and Dyls haven’t been awesome, but Mitch feels bad, dumping all of his feelings on the two of them. So Argo becomes Mitch’s confidant, and when Mitch cries—unfortunately that still happens—Argo licks his tears away, puts his little head on Mitch’s lap and consoles Mitch as best as he can.

Being back with the team is fantastic and Mitch feels like some missing pieces of his life are slotting back in place. Everyone is excited about the new season, and about doing better and getting deeper into the playoffs than they did last year. The roster is almost completely unchanged. Losing Boyler was hard, but Patrick Marleau seems like a good addition, and Mitch likes him immediately.

 

Things with Auston are … surprisingly fine.

 

Mitch was expecting some discomfort, some awkwardness, even some angst, to be honest, but Auston is his usual self—goofy and funny, pretending to be chill when he wants to burst out laughing, and clearly delighted to be back in Mitch’s presence.

 

Mitch decides to take his queue from him, as he’s always done, and acts accordingly. So, when Auston asks him to grab some lunch to catch up with their summer adventures, Mitch agrees.

 

Lunch is also surprisingly fine. Mitch had a good summer—the whole ‘getting over a broken heart’ goes unmentioned, of course—Auston had a good summer and now they’re both ready to be back on the ice.

 

Auston has a lot of funny stories from back home, about his parents, his sisters, his friends and his huge tattoo. Mitch shares his own stories, about his own huge tattoo, his days with Stromer and Davo, and his trip with Brownie. When he tells him about their sunburn, Auston demands photographic proofs and giggles like mad when Mitch shows him some of the picture him and Brownie took—“For posterity,” Mitch explains.

 

“Speaking of Brownie,” Auston interjects once he’s done laughing. “We can choose our road roomies this year.”

 

“Yeah,” Mitch says. He’s gotten the front office memo, too.

 

Apparently, Willy called Zach from Sweden to inform him—not ask him, mind you, to inform him—that they were sharing this year. So Mitch is shit out of a roommate.

 

“I take it you already know that Willy commandeered Hymie?” Auston smiles.

 

“It’s almost like he wanted to mark his territory,” Mitch observes—he’s thinking in dog metaphors a lot these days, what with Argo being such a big part of his life.

 

Auston bursts out laughing before commenting, “That’s entirely possible, though it might be a last ditch attempt at being respectable. You know, because Zach looks so good at the whole adulting thing.”

 

“It’s not like respectability or adulthood is transmitted through contact, but whatever floats Willy’s boat,” Mitch shrugs.

 

“So, I was thinking,” Auston continues, looking a bit nervous for a second. “How would you feel about rooming together on the road this year?”

 

Now, Mitch had thought long and hard about his first one-to-one meeting with Auston Matthews and how it would go after several months without contact. But the last thing he’d imagined was that Auston would be interested in being Mitch’s road roomie. Talk about mixed messages.

 

Auston must realize that Mitch is a bit thrown off by his request, because he blushes slightly.

 

“We are okay, aren’t we?” he asks.

 

Mitch ponders if this is the first time Auston actually wondered whether Mitch was okay with the unilateral decision he made to end things back in April. He certainly didn't ask then.

 

“What do you mean?” Mitch replies. He thinks he deserves something of an explanation, even if it’s a belated one. Plus, clearing the air might help both of them in the long run.

 

“About … you know, things,” Auston says.

 

“Things,” Mitch deadpans.

 

“Like, how we used to hook up and then we stopped,” Auston adds, looking like he’s just swallowed a lemon. Or a cactus.

 

“Of course we are okay,” Mitch smiles winningly, since he has cried enough rivers about it over the summer. “I mean, I would have liked to actually be part of a conversation about how we were going to stop having sex and being friends for months,” he adds. “But we are totally fine.”

 

Auston blushes brightly.

 

 _He probably wasn't expecting me to call him out on it_ , Mitch muses.

 

“Shit,” Auston says, rubbing his eyes. “Sorry about that. I could have handled it a bit better, right?”

 

“Right,” Mitch comments. “I don’t really want to get too deep into this, because you don't like to talk about this type of stuff, and I respect that, but it was a really shitty way of treating me. I’m still your friend.”

 

Auston nods wordlessly, and Mitch lets him chew on that while he continues eating his lunch.

 

“I guess I just didn't know what to do,” Auston admits.

 

“About wanting it to be over?” Mitch asks perplexed.

 

“That’s not it, exactly, but we were going to be so far from each other for the entire summer, so it seemed like the right idea at the time,” Auston explains.

 

“Not to make too fine of a point, here, Matty, because I do respect your decisions, but we managed to stay in touch when you were in fucking Switzerland,” Mitch observes, a frown marring his forehead. “How was that different?”

 

“Will you believe it if I tell you that I don’t know?” Auston asks him.

 

Mitch looks at Matty carefully, but he only sees earnestness and confusion on his face. He’s telling the truth: he doesn't get how the two scenarios are comparable—even if by the end of last April, the two of them were much closer than they’d been by the end of World Juniors.

 

“Yeah, I do,” Mitch sighs. “It still doesn't explain why you completely cut me off.”

 

“I figured a clean break was better?” Auston says—asks himself, it seems.

 

“A clean break from what?” Mitch asks, feeling mortified. “Me?”

 

“No,” Auston almost yells, “god, no, never. But we were together and then we were not, so …”

 

Mitch feels like he’s been punched in the stomach, because what Auston is saying is news to him.

 

“We weren’t together,” he says.

 

“I know,” Auston agrees, rubbing both his hands on his pants. “I guess I felt like we were, and I figured that was the way to handle it.”

 

“Do you always break up your non-existing relationships by _not_ informing your partner that one, you were in a relationship and two, you’re no longer want to be in one?” Mitch asks snidely.

 

“You make me sound like a moron,” Auston whines.

 

“That’s because you are a moron,” Mitch replies.

 

It figures. Mitch Marner was in love with a moron. Is in love with a moron. Surely will _not_ be in love with a moron for much longer.

 

“Let me get this straight, so we are on the same page,” Mitch continues when Auston doesn't say anything. They really should have talked about this last year, when they were doing … whatever.

 

“Okay,” Auston nods.

 

“You stopped talking to me for the entire summer because you thought that us hooking up was a relationship, you didn't want one, and figured the best way to simplify the whole thing was a clean break.”

 

“You know I don't like the idea of being tied down, Mitch,” Auston says.

 

“Yeah,” Mitch nods. They’ve talked about it often. “But we were never together, Auston.”

 

It hurts to say this as much as it hurts to remember it and it hurt living it, but it’s the truth.

 

Auston sighs heavily.

 

“Did you think we were?” Mitch asks him. “Because I don't recall any conversation about that. We were good friends who fucked. And sure, the sex was great, and the friendship even better. But we were not exclusive. We never went on dates or bought each other romantic gifts or whatever it is that people who’re dating each other do. So forgive me if I am surprised by your interpretation of the whole thing.”

 

“Fuck,” Auston says. “I am a moron.”

 

“No shit,” Mitch says. “But, seriously: did you really think we were dating?”

 

“I mean, no, not really,” Auston admits. “But things were really confusing for a bit, especially at the end when you got sick, and I felt overwhelmed.”

 

“By what?” Mitch asks perplexed.

 

“I don't even know, Marns,” Auston exhales.

 

“And talking to me about it would have classified as not being chill, right?” Mitch exhales, disappointed that he _is_ the only adult in the situation.

 

Auston’s scarlet face is the only answer Mitch needs.

 

“You could have fucked us up for good, Matty,” Mitch states.

 

“I am realizing that,” Auston says. “Jesus, Marns, I am really sorry. I handled it all wrong.”

 

Well, this confirms Zach’s theory that Auston is as clueless as they come and Stromer’s theory that Auston can be sort of an ass. It’s nice to get some validation for his friends, Mitch supposes.

 

“Nothing to be done about it, now,” Mitch replies. Not when Mitch had done quite a lot about it from May through August.

 

“I get that,” Auston acknowledges. “And I should have talked to you. But I _am_ sorry,” Auston repeats.

 

Mitch looks at him. Auston seems genuinely sorry.

 

“I guess I am sorry, too,” Mitch admits. “I mean, I didn't know what was going through your head, but I was always perfectly happy not to discuss things as long as we were both okay with what we were doing.”

 

“Guess we should have had this conversation last year, eh?” Auston attempts to joke.

 

“No way,” Mitch smiles. “You, talking about feelings? Me, behaving like an adult? Are you insane?”

 

Auston snorts, his shoulders relaxing minutely.

 

“Are you okay?” Auston asks then.

 

Mitch appreciates the sentiment, really, he does. But he cannot trust Auston with the truth, not about this.

 

“I am fine,” he lies. “I am glad we cleared the air. And I hope you don’t treat me so shitty ever again. But I am fine. Are you? No longer rattled by our non-existing relationship?”

 

“Yeah,” Auston says. “Jeez, I don't wanna lose you over this, Mitchy,” he adds, looking at him straight in the eye. “You’re my best friend on the team, one of my best friends, period. With or without the sex.”

 

Mitch’s breath hitches, because that hurts a lot, too, even if it’s a lovely thing to say.

 

“You’re my best friend on the team, too. Or at least,” he corrects himself. “You were last year.”

 

“I am going to make it up to you, I promise,” Auston hastens to reassure Mitch.

 

“I know you will,” Mitch smiles. “But we are going to need some ground rules we both agree on, okay?”

 

“Absolutely,” Auston agrees.

 

“No more shutting me out or not telling me things that are bothering you when they are about me,” Mitch begins.

 

“I promise. And same with you,” Auston says.

 

Mitch doesn't promise, because he can’t, but Auston doesn't realize that.

 

“No disappearing for three months,” Mitch continues.

 

“You, too.”

 

“Fine,” Mitch agrees, because he never texted either, even if he felt like he was the injured party.

 

“And no more ambiguity in our relationship,” Mitch says, using the term relationship deliberately. This is going to suck, but it’s the only way that Mitch has to actually get over Auston Matthews.

 

“What do you mean?” Auston asks.

 

“We are friends, Matty,” Mitch explains. “Which, by the way, is having a relationship. But that’s it. No friends-with-benefits, or pseudo-boyfriends or friends who fuck. We take the sex out of the equation.”

 

“Oh,” Auston says.

 

“What?” Mitch asks stunned. “Did you think we were going to pick up where we left off?”

 

“No, no,” Auston denies. “I actually didn't know how this was going to play out. I just didn't expect for you to be so adamant about it.”

 

“It almost fucked us up,” Mitch repeats. “Not the sex, but the fact that we didn't talk about what we were doing and then you stopped it without telling me why and then stopped talking to me.”

 

 _It completely fucked me up_ , Mitch thinks to himself. _I am not letting you do that to me ever again._

 

“You are right,” Auston admits. “Fuck, you are absolutely right.”

 

“There is also something else, Matty,” Mitch adds.

 

It might not be Auston’s business, not anymore, but it will make it very clear to Auston why Mitch isn’t doing this again.

 

“What is it?”

 

“I know you don't want to date or whatever, but I actually do,” Mitch explains. “Like, I am not opposed to the idea, if I were to meet someone I really liked. So I want that to be a possibility.”

 

“You never said,” Auston says, surprise coloring his dark eyes.

 

“It was not relevant,” Mitch says. “Not last year. I had you, and it was good. But I did a lot of thinking this summer, and I hanged out with friends who are happily dating. I liked what they have. So I want to try and see if I can find it.”

 

“Makes sense,” Auston smiles softly. “I can be your wingman, if you want.”

 

Mitch wrinkles his nose.

 

“Or not,” Auston snorts, getting the joke.

 

“We’ll see how the season goes,” Mitch concedes. “What about you?” he asks. “Any ground rules to add to mine?”

 

“No,” Auston shakes his head. “I think you covered everything. We’re going to try to be adults and treat our friendship and each other better than I treated you in April and over the summer.”

 

“Okay,” Mitch nods, satisfied. He can do this.

 

“Would you still be okay with rooming together?” Auston asks tentatively.

 

And really, it’s a terrible idea. Like, on a scale of one to ten where one is hitting yourself with a stick and ten is throwing yourself into a blaze of flames, it’s the equivalent of getting catapulted into the sun. But: there is objectively no reason for Mitch to say no, not without explaining to Auston that he’s still in love with him, and has been all along.

 

“Yeah, okay,” Mitch gives him the only possible answer. “I think that’d be nice. What about Brownie, though?”

 

Connor hasn't said anything to Mitch about _not_ rooming with Auston, but it’s not something they’ve actually gotten around to discussing.

 

“I think the whole changing rooms last year has soured him about rooming with me,” Auston says with a smirk. “He wants a roomie in a committed relationship who’s not going to force him to sleep around—his words.”

 

Mitch’s eyes widen at the inherent ambiguity of Connor’s phrasing, but he cannot contain his mirth.

 

“Okay, I’ll bite, who is Brownie’s new roomie?”

 

“Connor Carrick,” Auston says. “A match made in heaven, I think.”

 

“I guess,” Mitch muses. “Does this mean that I am going to have to sleep around while you kick me out of the room for your evening entertainment?”

 

It might not be a fair question, and it is certainly not Mitch’s business, but he doesn't want to spend the season counting the notches on Auston Matthews’ bedpost from a front row seat.

 

“No, of course not,” Auston assures him. “I promise you’ll always be able to sleep in your bed when we’re travelling.”

 

“Without additional room entertainment, right?” Mitch specifies, because he’s roomed with Chucky and he’s no fool.

 

“What? What the fuck, Marns!” Auston looks outraged at the idea and Mitch shakes his head.

 

“You really can be so naïve, Matty,” he says. “But fine, on those conditions, I will be delighted to be your road roomie.”

 

It’s not the smartest decision Mitch has ever made, he tells Argo later that evening, after he’s recounted the whole conversation. Argo woofs sympathetically and goes back to playing with the puck Mitch got him. It occurs to him then and there that he didn't mention Argo to Auston at all.

 

**Fall 2017-Winter 2017**

 

As it turns out, it’s great that things got cleared up with Matty, because the first part of the season is _awful_ for both of them. Whereas Mitch is healthy as a horse, he cannot produce to save his fucking life, and he gets demoted to the fourth line more than once. He toes the party line and he talks about how excited he is to play with Marty, but the truth of the matter is that it sucks. Luckily, Matty is very supportive, and keeps telling him that he’s doing everything right and not to listen to people who don't know what they’re talking about.

 

Matty, on the other hand, is _on fire_ and his chemistry with Willy, and with Hymie as well, is through the roof. Then, because Fate likes to spread shit around, Matty gets injured. Twice.

 

The first time is a back injury that solves itself relatively quickly. Matty comes over to Mitch’s apartment once during his injury to play video games and to finally meets Argo.

 

“He’s really cute,” Matty says, hesitantly, because Argo has not been particularly welcoming, what with the growling and the lack of tail wagging. Mitch is sort of impressed and a lot amused.

 

“He’s is really something,” Mitch smiles, patting Argo on the head and getting a lot of love for his trouble.

 

“Does he hate me?” Matty asks, looking at Mitch intently.

 

“Why would he?” Mitch asks innocently.

 

Matty rolls his eyes, and proceeds to ignore the two of them.

 

Mitch is not worried. Argo knows everything about Auston, even the fact that Mitch has forgiven him despite being all hang up on him still. Mitch is convinced Argo’s trolling Auston, because that is the kind of dog Argo is.

 

Auston comes back from the first injury stronger than ever, and scoring with him is such a thrill for Mitch that he doesn't know how to handle it. Auston himself looks delighted, especially with his disallowed goal. They’re good together, and they make each other better even on the ice. It figures, Mitch muses. Maybe this getting over Auston business might take longer than Mitch had originally anticipated.

 

“You think?” Brownie tells him in late November.

 

Mitch needs new friends, because the ones he has clearly aren’t doing what he’s paying them for.

 

“Woof,” Argo remarks when Mitch explains this to him.

 

“You’re partial to Brownie because he takes you to the dog park and lets you do what you want,” Mitch tells him, tickling his belly with his socked foot.

 

“Woof,” Argo admits shamelessly, tail wagging furiously. He’s now almost six months old, still very tiny and very cute, and still the apple of Mitch’s eyes.

 

“Of course he’s partial to me,” Brownie says, laying on the floor next to Argo and passing him a treat. “We share the same amazing colorings, plus I am a delight, remember?”

 

“That explanation didn't fly back in July, it’s not going to work now, you know?” Mitch replies.

 

“Whatever, dude,” Bronwie says. “The point is: you’re not going to get over Matty if your strategy is to room with him on the road, let him come over when he’s injured, and continue to tutor him at CoD. And I am not even going to discuss whatever it is that you guys have going on with Patty.”

 

“Nothing is going on with Patty,” Mitch says horrified.

 

“Not like that, jeez, Marns,” Brownie says, turning over to kiss Argo on the nose. “Who is the worst owner is the entire universe, Argo?” he then asks him in the puppy voice he reserves for Mitch’s dog.

 

“Woof,” Argo replies, licking Brownie all over his face.

 

“Yes, he is,” Brownie smiles proudly. “Yes, he is.”

 

Mitch takes quite a bit of satisfaction in remembering where Argo’s tongue had been just two minutes prior. Brownie deserves only the worst.

 

“Patty is really cool,” Mitch says, sort of defensive.

 

“Patty is awesome, Marns,” Brownie agrees. “But the whole ‘I adopted Matty and Marns’ gig seems a bit too much, especially if you really want to get over Auston.”

 

“Well,” Mitch points out reasonably, “if we become brothers it’s going to be difficult for us to have sex, so I actually think it’ll work out okay.”

 

Brownie doesn't even deign Mitch with an answer. He picks up his phone, hits a button and when the call connects he says, “Hyms, Mitch is being weird. Come over and bring ice cream.”

 

Not to restate the obvious, but Mitch _does_ need new friends, though the ice cream Zach brings over is pretty good.

 

Mitch’s season isn’t looking much better when Auston collides with Morgan during a game against the Penguins and gets diagnosed with a concussion. It’s the second week of December and it’s the second injury Matty has to deal with in less than two months. And it’s a fucking concussion.

 

“I don't understand why we cannot have good things,” Willy bitches two days later after practice back in Toronto.

 

Everyone has been told, of course, although Babs asked all the players to wait another couple of days before converging on the Matthews household.

 

“We can’t have good things because we’re the Leafs,” Bozie explains sagely, which, really, he’s an As, so maybe he shouldn't be saying things like that. At the same time, Mitch realizes, Bozie has been around long enough to remember the Kessel trade, so he might know what he’s talking about.

 

“Mitch,” Babs says afterwards, calling Mitch aside.

 

“Sir?” Mitch asks.

 

“Get that sorry excuse for a canine I’ve been hearing so much about and take him over to Matty,” Babs says. “It will give them both something to do.”

 

“Sir,” Mitch says seriously. “I would like to clarify that Argo is an excellent representative of his species.”

 

“The jury is still out on that, I hear,” Babs comments with a smile, thus indicating he’s just giving Mitch a hard time because he can.

 

“Bozie and Naz have no room to talk,” Mitch defends Argo. “They’re both cat-persons.”

 

“Just get yourself and your dog over to Matty’s, please,” Babs repeats. “He is already driving his dad insane and I like Brian quite a bit.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Mitch sighs.

 

He’s not convinced Argo is going to be completely on board with the idea of providing emotional comfort to Auston, but it’s worth a shot.

 

Mr. Matthews welcomes Mitch with a hug, a relieved smile and a treat for Argo, who slobbers all over him like the food whore he is.

 

“Auston is in his room, crying in his tea,” Mr. Matthews smiles.

 

“Literally or metaphorically?” Mitch inquires. “Because I am not sure which one is worst.”

 

Mr. Matthews laughs and ruffles Mitch’s hair like if he were one of Patty’s kids.

 

“Is it safe to go in?” Mitch asks resigned.

 

“I mean, he’s not rabid,” Mr. Matthews says. “Not yet, at least. But it’s been only two days, so who knows what the future holds.”

 

“You and Coach share the same weird sense of humor, Mr. Matthews,” Mitch shakes his head. “I am not sure what that says about either of you.”

 

Mr. Matthews laughs again and lets Mitch go to Auston’s room.

 

Mitch knocks perfunctorily before entering the lair of the beast. The blinds are drawn and Auston is on his bed in sweat pants and a Team North America shirt, staring at the wall.

 

“Woof,” Argo says, asking to be put down.

 

“Oh, good, you brought the demon from hell to put me out of my misery,” Auston whines, covering his eyes with his right forearm. “How very thoughtful of you. That’s why you’re my BFF.”

 

“I see the level of drama has already reached new heights,” Mitch smirks, padding to Auston’s bed and laying down beside him. “Has Willy stopped by, or is this all you?”

 

Argo sniffs around for a bit before jumping on the bed and starting to sniff Auston, too.

 

Auston ignores them both and sighs heavily, raising his left forearm to his face.

 

“Have you showered, lately?” Mitch asks innocently. The room doesn't smell bad, but it does smell like ‘teenage guy who can’t be bothered’. Mitch is an expert, what with having been one himself until recently.

 

“Fuck off, Marns,” Auston says. There is no heat in his voice, however, only an overwhelming tiredness.

 

“Woof,” Argo comments, settling on Auston’s lap and going to sleep.

 

Auston’s eyes open suddenly and he looks at Mitch’s dog surprised before turning towards Mitch.

 

“What can I say?” Mitch grins. “You’re _that_ pathetic.”

 

“Fuck off, Marns,” Auston repeats, but he extends his left arm and give Argo a head rub.

 

“So,” Mitch says, grabbing his phone. “I can read you all there is to know about your injury. Some of the speculations are really quite funny.”

 

Auston’s grimace is all Mitch needs to move on.

 

“There are the details of the disaster that my season is, of course,” Mitch continues, and, at Auston’s swat, he adds “and Willy’s sophomore slump, because the three-headed monster has apparently been decapitated.”

 

“I am not sure if I like or hate that metaphor,” Auston comments.

 

“Well,” Mitch reminds him. “They use it for Shitsburgh too, so I guess we can take it as a compliment.”

 

Auston sends him a dead stare, and Mitch continues down the list.

 

“Alternatively, we can learn about American politics, and really, dude, I would consider applying for Canadian citizenship soon, if I were you. Or what about the latest on the Kardashians? Unless you’d prefer to hear how the NFL playoffs are shaping up to look like.”

 

“Those my only options?” Auston asks, looking at Argo with a smile on his lips. It wasn't there when Mitch arrived, so Babs is clearly onto something, here.

 

“Dude, I am just providing the service,” Mitch says. “If you want to learn about the theory of relativity or something else, just pick. The internet is the limit.”

 

Auston looks at Mitch, and then says, “How about we read the story of Argo and Jason and all that shit?”

 

“You mean _the_ Argo?” Mitch makes sure. “Because Agnes thinks I named my dog after a fucking boat, bro.”

 

“I don't know if it’s better than naming him after a football team, Marns” Auston reminds him.

 

“My dog, my name,” Mitch says.

 

“Just read the story,” Auston says.

 

That’s how Mitch ends up finally learning about the ship after which his dog is ultimately named, not to mention the Argonauts, Jason and Medea, who is a scary one, but also super cool—though the whole killing her children to get back at her man his a bit excessive.

 

“That’s Greek mythology for you,” Auston comments wisely. “So what happened to Jason after all that?”

 

That day sets a pattern for the two of them. Whenever possible Mitch drives over to Matty’s place, often with Argo in tow, and spends time entertaining Matty while he cannot do much because of his concussion.

 

They move from Greek mythology—which is cool but mostly really depressing—to ancient Greek history, which is mildly more entertaining. That leads to a thorough investigation of how the constellations got named—because they’ve varied taste, the two of them—which leads them back to Greek mythology.

 

Sometimes, they decide to catch up with hockey news and Mitch reads to Auston the most ridiculous articles he can find about everybody and everything in the league.

 

When Auston starts feeling better, they watch TV together cuddled up in Auston’s bed, Argo snoring between them and farting at regular intervals, because the treats Auston keeps sneaking him are dreadful like that, but Mitch cannot get him to stop.

 

“I hate you,” Mitch says one day, getting up to open the window, because the last one was a stinker.

 

“No, you don’t,” Auston laughs, patting Argo proudly. “Plus it’s not worse than the stench of the locker room.”

 

“It’s not better, either,” Mitch says, airing the room by waving the window like a lunatic. “And this is not a locker room.”

 

“You’re jealous because Argo likes me, now,” Auston points out smugly.

 

“First of all, Argo doesn't like you. You bought his affections. Second of all, I am not jealous, because Argo likes me best, anyway,” Mitch says.

 

Argo ignores Mitch, continuing to nap—and fart—like he doesn't have a care in the world.

 

“Have you decided what to get him for Christmas?” Auston asks once Mitch is back on the bed.

 

“A weekend with you, all trimmings included,” Mitch smirks. “Then we will see how much he likes you.”

 

Auston pales at the threat, which has the wonderful side effect of shutting him up.

 

Mitch is somewhat surprised at how easy it is to hang out with Matty like this. Sure, he misses the sex, and he still loves Matty more than he should. However, they were able to save their friendship, and Mitch feels closer to Auston now than ever before. That Auston clang to Mitch when it came to his concussion means a lot, because it tells Mitch how much Auston trusts him. How much Auston cares for him.

 

It also helps that Auston continues to be supportive of Mitch and Mitch’s game, telling him not to read stupid blog posts or the comments to on-line articles.

 

“The only persons you need to listen to are Babs and the other coaches, Mitchy,” Auston repeats constantly. “They’re the ones who know what they’re doing.”

 

So things might be shitty on ice, Mitch reflects one evening, as he drives back home from Matty’s place, but him and Auston are solid, and that’s a lot.

 

**Winter 2017-8**

 

That’s more than a lot, as it turns out, because quite a few things change once the Leafs are back from the break. Not only things begin to turn around for Matty, who comes back soon before Christmas more dominant than ever, but for Mitch as well.

 

After quite a bit of shuffling up and down the line-up, Babs puts him with Patty and Naz and magic happens—almost literally. The points begin to come in more frequently, Babs is more complimentary of Mitch during press conferences, the media stop talking about sophomore slumps and start praising Mitch’s game again and the playoffs look closer than ever, with the Leafs stubbornly clinging to third in the Atlantic Division.

 

And sure, the defense has quite a few problems, but Freddie and Mac are brick walls between the pipes, and when they aren’t, well, even goalies are entitled to have a night off. Since, you know, everybody else seems to.

 

Then, three things happen in rapid succession.

 

One, Sosh gets traded to St. Louis. Now, Mitch isn’t surprised about this one bit, because the whole Sosh situation has been really difficult for everyone to handle, Sosh first and foremost. There isn’t room on the roster for more forwards, not with Kappy finally sticking around and people like Marty and Josh routinely benched because _they’re not needed._

Two, Auston gets injured, _again_. At this point, Mitch thinks somebody put a curse on him, and wonders if it’s actually his fault, what with all the crying and actually cursing he did over the summer.

 

Three, Plekanec gets traded _to_ the Leafs and it doesn't matter how professional everyone is in the locker room—the whole thing is just weird. The guy is an upstanding dude, but Mitch can see how difficult it is for him to be in the Leaf locker room.

 

The Leafs also start their road trip, which culminates with the Stadium series, soon thereafter, so there isn’t really a lot of time for anyone to get used to all the changes.

 

Matty, who is going to be stuck in Toronto alone—if one doesn't count the army of girls he surrounds himself with when they go out and the trainers who watch him with an eagle eye—, is not a happy camper.

 

When Mitch finds out about that, he cancels his dog sitter, sits Argo down and explains things to him very clearly and very plainly.

 

“I need you to take care of Auston, buddy,” he says. “He’s going to drive himself mad because he cannot be there, and let’s not even think about him missing the game against the Caps. So please, be kind, keep him company and don't let him out of your sight, okay?”

 

“Woof,” Argo agrees, sort of, Mitch imagines.

 

“I still love him very much, Argo,” Mitch insists. “Yes, I know, I am an idiot,” he adds, when Argo tries to lick him, though Mitch doubts this is Argo’s way of expressing disapproval. “But I want him to be happy, and I cannot be there. So please, take care of him for me, okay?”

 

“Woof,” Argo says a bit more enthusiastically.

 

The night before they leave for Tampa, Mitch drives to the Matthews household with Argo and enough food and toys to entertain a small army.

 

“You guys moving in?” Mr. Matthews asks when he opens the door.

 

“Argo is,” Mitch says, resolutely. “If it’s okay with you,” he adds, because, shit, there are two people in this house.

 

“Best idea I’ve heard all season,” Mr. Matthews smiles, patting Mitch on the shoulder. “I need all the help I can get. Ema is refusing to come up if you’re not around. She said Auston can wait until you are back.”

 

“Woof,” Argo comments

 

“I guess you will do as good a job as Mitchy does at taking care of that boy,” Mr. Matthews says, scratching Argo on the head. “Maybe I can convince Ema to come up, after all.”

 

Mitch _does not_ blush, because that’d be uncool, but it’s a close thing.

 

“Good,” Mitch says, “now let me break the news to Matty.”

 

“You know the way, Mitch,” Mr. Matthews says, disappearing in the kitchen.

 

Auston is moping in his room, trying to destroy something on the TV, when Mitch and Argo walk in.

 

“I didn't know you were coming over,” he says exiting the game when Mitch opens the door.

 

“Surprise,” Mitch smiles toothily.

 

“Woof,” Argo adds, surveying his new dominion with interest.

 

“What’s all that?” Auston asks.

 

“This,” Mitch says, depositing his bags in a corner of Auston’s room that is not covered with hockey gear and dirty clothes, “is what Argo needs to take care of you while I am gone.”

 

“What?” Auston says.

 

“Yeah, I know,” Mitch continues, “I was surprised too, but Argo insisted. Apparently he actually likes you more than he likes the dog-walker they’ve been sending over of late. So I figured I’d indulge him.”

 

“Woof,” Argo adds, because he’s a good bro. Then he jumps on Auston’s bed—Mitch never even tried to teach him _not_ to jump on beds—and curls up next to Auston.

 

“You’re leaving Argo here?” Auston asks, a mixture of horrified and excited.

 

“Yep,” Mitch says. “All you need is in those bags and I emailed you his schedule. Try to stick to it as much as possible, but don't worry if it interferes with your conditioning.”

 

“Mitch …” Auston clearly doesn't know what to say, but his eyes are teary, and Mitch cannot really deal with this right now.

 

“Don't get my dog killed, Matthews, okay?” Mitch warns him.

 

Auston gets off the bed, reaches Mitch in two strides and hugs him.

 

“Matty, your shoulder,” Mitch mumbles, because he’s about to suffocate.

 

“Thanks, Mitchy,” Auston says in Mitch’s ear.

 

It’s the closest they’ve been, the most intimate, since they stopped having sex almost a year ago, and it’s heavenly. Thankfully, Mitch manages to avoid trembling in Auston’s arms, though he hugs him hard.

 

“Anytime, buddy,” Mitch says. “Just take care of yourself.”

 

“I will,” Auston says dropping a kiss on Mitch’s head. “And I will take care of Argo, too.”

 

The road trip is a clusterfuck of epic proportions. They lose the first two games by a narrow margin, get slaughtered by the Caps on national television and by the Sabres on local cable.

 

“This sucks so bad,” Mitch tells Auston on FaceTime as the team is driving back from Buffalo.

 

“I know,” Auston sighs.

 

The connection is not the greatest, but Mitch can see that Auston is exhausted, because he’s letting Argo sprawl all over him, something he does when he needs comfort. Mitch used to do that for him.

 

“And we have the Penguins on Saturday,” Mitch adds.

 

“At least is on home ice,” Auston says encouragingly.

 

“How are you?” Mitch changes the subject.

 

“The same,” Auston wrinkles his nose. “I have been skating and keeping up with my conditioning, which is more than what I was able to do during the concussion. But I am bored out of my mind.”

 

“What? Toronto is your playfield and the team is out of town. You didn't look for some entertainment?”

 

“First of all, I am injured,” Auston reminds Mitch primly.

 

“Wasn't a concern when I was injured last year,” Mitch mutters, even if Auston hears him perfectly well, because he blushes.

 

“Secondly, I was charged with taking care of the second most awesome dog in the history of dogs, so I’ve been a bit busy,” Auston adds.

 

“I’ll let that pass, because I know you love Nala to bits, and she’s super cute,” Mitch says, “but if you’ve spoiled my dog more than he already is, I am going to kill you.”

 

“Nonsense,” Auston says. “He’s perfectly fine. And he can run for more than ten minutes now.”

 

Mitch groans, because that means Argo is going to demand that treatment, and Mitch doesn't particularly like running.

 

“Fine, then,” Mitch says, “you’re in charge of that, because I am not taking him out at fuck o’clock in the morning to train for a marathon.”

 

“We’ll see,” Auston says, yawning.

 

“Go to sleep,” Mitch says. “We’ll be home in less than an hour. I will come by tomorrow to get Argo and catch you up with the latest gossip.”

 

“Like Willy hasn't kept me in the loop,” Auston says, but he smiles and winks before hanging up.

 

Mitch has a moment of flashback to December 2015 and realizes that not much has changed since then, since that first wink-and-smile combination.

 

It’s a startling realization, and one that propels Mitch to go and retrieve Brownie, who’s immersed in a heated conversation about peacocks with Mac. What even is this team?

 

“Can I talk to you for a second?” Mitch interrupts them.

 

Mac looks at him with a smile and Brownie nods promptly, because he knows when Mitch is about to have a breakdown.

 

They get Marty to move up so he can continue the peacock convo with Mac—Mitch really doesn't want to know—and once they’ve cuddled up, Mitch is ready to pour his soul out.

 

“What’s wrong?” Brownie asks quietly, his arm around Mitch.

 

“I still love him, Connor,” Mitch says softly. “Even more than before.”

 

“Of course you do,” Brownie smiles softly. “You never allowed yourself to get over him.”

 

“I thought I had, during the summer,” Mitch explains.

 

“You mourned his loss over the summer, Mouse,” Brownie points out. “You were supposed to get over him during the season. You made plans to look for a boyfriend or a girlfriend.”

 

“Yeah,” Mitch says. “That didn't work out very well.”

 

“Because you didn't even try,” Brownie says, massaging Mitch’s scalp in a soothing manner. “You just picked up with Matty from where you left off, minus the sex, and you got all your emotional needs satisfied with him.”

 

“He got injured three times, Brownie,” Mitch defends himself. “He needed company.”

 

“It didn't have to be you, Mitch,” Brownie points out. “Zach and Willy, not to mention Freddie, would have been more than happy to visit him more than they did. But the two of you were almost literally attached by the hip.”

 

“I know, but …”

 

“I am not accusing you of anything, Mitch,” Brownie says. “And I know Matty was relying on you more than he probably should have and you didn't mind. I am just explaining why things haven’t changed much.”

 

Mitch doesn't say anything, because Brownie is not wrong.

 

“It’s fine, Mitch,” Brownie says after a while.

 

“I just don't know how not to love him,” Mitch whispers, eyes filling with tears. He hasn't cried in so long, he’s honestly surprised by them.

 

“You don't have to learn not to love him,” Brownie answers. “You just have to let him go. And I think the best way for you to do that is to tell him how you feel.”

 

Mitch tenses at the suggestion, but Brownie doesn't leave him any time to object.

 

“He’s not going to hate you, Mitchy. But he’s going to understand that you need some space, especially in the off-season.”

 

Mitch mulls over that suggestion while he weeps on Brownie’s shoulder. Hyms, who’s sitting right in front of them with Willy, turns around and stretches over to offer additional moral supports, while at the same time telling Willy to mind his own business.

 

It’s sweet, and Mitch finds it cute enough to giggle.

 

“It’s going to be okay, Mitchy,” Brownie repeats, like he had so many times. “You’re going to be okay. Both of you.”

 

And Mitch thinks that if they survived Auston getting all confused about them being too emotionally codependent, they’re going to survive Mitch being in love with Auston and needing some additional room to get over it.

 

**Spring 2018**

As he looks at Matty practicing in his no-contact red jersey, Mitch thanks the hockey gods for small miracles. Things are getting better. Slowly but truly, things are getting better and the Leafs are so close to clinching a playoff spot Mitch can taste it.

 

Not only that, but the disaster that was Mitch’s first half of the season is definitely over, and he seems to have found his place on a line with Naz and Patty after being demoted more than once to the infamous fourth line.

 

Sure, Matty is still injured—and one has to hope that the third time is the charm—but the team is actually keeping up with their contenders after that last road trip and everyone is chipping in while the trainers makes sure Matty doesn't come back too soon.

 

“Tired already?” Brownie asks Mitch once he’s done with his own drill.

 

“Not more than usual,” Mitch smiles.

 

The last few days have been relatively quiet, what with a long break between the sucky game against Buffalo and the epic battle with Pittsburgh, so Mitch has had the chance to catch up with sleep and ponder Brownie’s suggestion. Not to mention, try to get his dog to learn that the trip to Auston’s was a one-off and not a new habit he should get used to.

 

Tomorrow they play the Stars and then they’re off to Buffalo again before coming back to face Montreal. It’s an interesting mixture of teams, some of them desperate to gain in their division, so it’s not going to be easy.

 

“Do you wanna come over this afternoon?” Brownie asks.

 

Connor’s been a rock for Mitch in the past few days, since Mitch had his epiphany on a fucking bus in the middle of Ontario. Both him and Hyms have.

 

Mitch is very grateful to them. Dyls is too far away, not to mention dealing with his own problems. Chucky and Dvo were never told anything to begin with, even if they witnessed the epic beginnings, and Davo expressed his opinion about the whole thing a long time ago—it wasn't a supportive opinion, but then Davo thinks a hockey player’s time and energy should be devoted to hockey only. No work-and-life balance there. Since nobody else on the team knows, it’s nice to have at least two persons who are aware of what is happening right now and don’t judge Mitch because of his decisions.

 

“That sounds good,” Mitch says. “I can bring pizza.”

 

“Don’t let Babs catch you even pronouncing that word,” Brownie says. “He’s going to kill you.”

 

“Whatever,” Mitch wrinkles his nose. “It’s not like I couldn't do with a few extra kilos.”

 

“Pounds, Marns, pounds” Matty corrects him, icing him in the process.

 

“Fuck off, Matts,” Mitch and Brownie say at the same time, like they do every time one of the Americans brings their wacky measurement systems into the conversation. A fist-bump dutifully follows.

 

“Still pounds, though,” Matty smirks.

 

“How are you feeling?” Mitch asks. He knows Auston is sick of the question, but this is his first full practice in a while. Plus, Mitch doesn't know how not to worry about him.

 

“Pretty good, considering,” Matty answers after taking a sip of water, smiling at Mitch. “The shoulder still hurts, but I can tell it’s getting better faster than it was even a week ago.”

 

“Excellent,” Brownie says excitedly. “Not that I am not enjoying the current line combo,” he adds, “but it’d be nice to have you back in the line-up before the end of the season.”

 

“No shit,” Mitch says.

 

They’re doing well, and they can win without Matty. Still, having him on the team is going to be crucial, especially if they end up having to go against the Bruins in the first round, which seems likely.

 

“You guys have plans for afterwards?” Matty asks then. “Willy, Freddie and I are thinking of going to the mall.”

 

“CoD at my place, dude,” Brownie says. “I am not venturing into the mall until at least a month after our season is done for good. You are a braver man than I am.”

 

“Matty mastered the art of going undetected,” Mitch smirks, getting an elbow in his ribs for his troubles.

 

“Considering you kept leaving me hanging last season, I had to,” Matty replies.

 

“You, Willy and Freddie are the least undetectable people on the team,” Brownie points out, seemingly trying to be helpful.

 

Matty sighs, presumably recognizing the dangers of visiting a mall, even in the middle of the week. It’s Tuesday.

 

“I guess we could come over,” he acknowledges.

 

“I don't remember inviting you,” Brownie arches his eyebrows.

 

Mitch snickers and he gets another elbow in his ribs.

 

“Can we not injure me, too?” he whines. “I get that you missed us and all of that, but I don't really need to be on IR just to keep you company.”

 

“If you insist,” Matty says, sending Mitch one of his killer smiles.

 

“I insist,” Mitch replies, hip-checking him gently.

 

“If you’re done with the lovey-dovey reunion, we can go back to the drills,” Willy, the fucker, says as he passes them by.

 

Mitch rolls his eyes while Matty and Brownie ignore him and go back in line for the next set of drills.

 

Before getting ready, Brownie tells Auston, “If you’re coming over, let me know. Marns is only bringing so much food.”

 

“If I am coming over, I will bring food, too, then,” Matty says, and off he goes, following Babs’ instructions.

 

“Are you okay with this?” Brownie asks Mitch softly.

 

“Yeah,” Mitch assures him.

 

It’s going to be fine, eventually. Because a plant that doesn't get watered is destined to die, even if it’s a cactus. Mitch is going to get over Auston Matthews. Sure, he’s been in love with him for more than two years, but it will get better. Hopefully.

The afternoon of CoD at Brownie’s is a nice respite from the grueling practice and from the upcoming games. Freddie and Willy end up joining them after Matty points out the dangers of Toronto’s malls so close to the playoffs, and Connor, Dermy and Zach tag along.

 

“Great,” Freddie comments, sipping his purple G2, “because I am not surrounded by rookies enough as is.”

 

“Not rookies anymore,” Willy and Zach yell from the other side of the living room where they’re setting up the game.

 

“That one is,” Freddie reminds them, pointing at Travis, who flips him off. “And don’t get me started on that one,” Freddie adds, looking at Argo, who’s sleeping contentedly in a patch of sun near the window.

 

“Leave my dog alone, Freddie,” Mitch grumbles as he helps Brownie setting up snacks and additional drinks. “He’s very sensitive.”

 

“He’s very something, alright,” Matty sighs, remembering, Mitch imagines, his first encounter with Argo.

 

“I heard you’ve been slowly buying his affections,” Brownie tells Matty laughing, before patting Argo gently on the head.

 

“I wouldn't call it slowly anymore,” Mitch comments from the kitchen. “Not after Matty dog-sat last week.”

 

“What can I say?” Matty smirks. “All the girls love me.”

 

“And the boys, too, apparently,” Willy grins sleazily, getting slapped on the shoulder by Zach for his troubles.

 

“I am not sure I approve of all this physical abuse,” Dermy says from the armchair on which he planted himself.

 

“It’s okay,” Mitch tells him. “You’ll learn to enjoy it.”

 

Dermy groans, and so does Zach, but Willy fist-bumps Mitch, proud that someone else on the team makes an effort with innuendos.

 

Matty ends up sitting next to Mitch on the couch, as the two of them have to wait a couple of rounds before getting into the game. They start chatting while the rest of the guys are busy cheering on Freddie.

 

“You okay?” Mitch asks, during a pause in their conversation, as Matty winces after an odd movement.

 

“Yeah,” Matty smiles. “I am just glad you guys are back, you know? It really sucked to hang out by myself when you were all gone, even with Argo to keep me company.”

 

“I know,” Mitch smiles sympathetically. “I still have all your bitchy messages. But at least now we’re at home for a bit and then you can come with us to Tampa and Nashville. You can, right?”

 

“The trainers said I should be able to, yes,” Matty nods. “Whether Babs is going to let me play is another issue altogether.”

 

“He just wants to make sure you’re fully recovered, Matty,” Mitch explains, squeezing Matty’s knee with his hand.

 

Matty pats Mitch’s hand with his—touching Mitch is something that Matty never stopped doing, even once they stopped hooking up—and sighs again.

 

“Twenty games, Mitchy,” he says. “I missed twenty games. It’s going to be almost a fourth of the season by the time we’re done.”

 

“It’s hockey, Matty,” Mitch says, although he knows that’s no consolation. He remembers the long talks he had with Davo during his collarbone injury.

 

“I know,” Matty nods. “It just sucks. And the reporters’ questions are getting really tiresome.”

 

“They’re just doing their job, though it is admittedly a fucking miserable one,” Mitch agrees. “I wonder if they need to pass exams on how to ask the same question over and over again by rewording it differently.”

 

“Sometimes it’s the exact same question, no rewording whatsoever, even if it’s been just one day since they asked it,” Matty reminds Mitch. “It’s like they don't think we can remember from one day to the next.”

 

“Maybe _they_ can’t,” Mitch smiles up at Matty.

 

Matty returns Mitch’s smiles, “Or maybe they’re buying into the ‘dumb hockey player’ stereotype.”

 

“I mean, I wouldn’t put it past them,” Mitch shrugs.

 

“Are you guys done gossiping?” Willy asks then, interrupting their conversation.

 

Mitch rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “You jealous, Willy?” he asks.

 

“You can catch up on your own time,” Willy orders them. “Now come and be social.”

 

Mitch and Matty sigh heavily but comply.

 

The ruckus wakes Argo up, and the little dog goes up to Mitch for a cuddle before sniffing his way to Matty, who’s now sitting on the floor in front of Zach.

 

“Hey, buddy,” Matty says, mindful of his own shoulder.

 

Mitch’s heart squeezes, but he says nothing. He doesn't regret leaving Argo with Matty, because the two of them bonded and now Argo knows Matty better and loves him. And if Argo loves Matty, he can’t be such an insensitive person, right? Dogs know best.

 

Argo has also gotten very protective of Matty, probably because of all the times he’s seen him in pain since he’s met him. Today is a case in point because, after some additional sniffing, he makes himself confortable across Matty’s crossed legs and goes back to sleep.

 

Matty looks at Mitch happily and Mitch just smiles.

The game against the Stars is exhilarating, and scoring the winning shootout goal feels so fucking good, like hockey hasn't felt in a while. Everyone wants to celebrate, but they’ve got a bus to catch tomorrow, so Mitch goes home to Argo and gets a solid night of sleep.

 

The bus ride to Buffalo is only about two hours long, but Brownie commandeered his presence already last night, so Marty resigns himself to sitting with Connor and discuss floral arrangements or some shit. Mitch thinks it a good idea, what with the soon-to-be engagement and what not.

 

“Is this your weekly mental health check-in?” Mitch jokes once they’re all settled in their seats.

 

“Just trying to make sure you’re holding up fine,” Brownie says with a smile.

 

“I am,” Mitch says. “I haven’t talked to him, though. I was thinking after the playoffs, because it doesn't seem like a good idea to throw this at him now.”

 

“Why not?” Brownie observes shrewdly. “Isn’t that sort of what happened last year?”

 

“Yeah, but I don't think he did it deliberately,” Mitch says.

 

“You’re not asking him for anything, Mitch,” Brownie points out.

 

“Telling a person you love them _is_ asking them for something, if only their rejection,” Mitch says. “I am not going to put that on him on top of everything else.”

 

Brownie sighs like he despairs of Mitch’s intelligence.

 

“You’re too nice,” he comments, “but you’re probably right. Everyone is already clamoring about when he’s coming back. He’s going to put the weight of the world on his shoulder to perform perfectly once he is back. No need to add unnecessary stress.”

 

“Yep,” Mitch says. “No need at all.”

 

They win against Buffalo and Montreal handily, and by the time plans for their last prolonged road trip are in motion, Babs announces Matty is going to join them.

 

“Dude,” Marty tells Matty, who looks as happy as he did when he scored four times on his first NHL game. “Finally.”

 

“No shit,” Willy comments, though he’s more restrained than usual in his celebrations, what with Auston’s shoulder still being under observation.

 

“It’s going to be great to have you back, bro,” Hyms says. The whole team echoes his sentiment.

 

Mitch is super excited of course, and he even looks forward to sharing a room with Matty again.

 

“The boys are going to be happy they don't have to play nice anymore when you come over,” Patty comments with a twinkle in his eyes.

 

“Your sons haven’t played nice a day of their lives,” Auston grumbles.

 

Mitch giggles, because the Marleau boys are ruthless at mini-sticks and they have their father’s competitive spirit, especially the eldest.

 

“They play perfectly nice with Mitchy,” Patty smirks.

 

“That’s because Mitchy is like catnip for small children and animals,” Auston huffs.

 

“Whereas you’re catnip for busty blonds and slender brunettes,” Willy comments sleazily, sending a meaningful look in Mitch’s direction.

 

Mitch rolls his eyes, though he appreciates both Willy’s humor and Auston’s compliment. They’re signs things are going back to normal.

 

The night before the game against Tampa finds Mitch in his room with Auston, Hyms and Willy. The Connors are somewhere in the hotel playing poker against Bozie and Naz—because Brownie didn't heed Mitch’s dire warnings—so it’s just the four of them.

 

They play some euchre to make Auston happy, but once Mitch gets bored with it, and decides to sort through his Argo photos to send the cutest ones to Stromer and Davo, the Leaf top line starts talking strategy against Nashville, which is the game when Matty is scheduled to return to the line-up.

 

Mitch lets their chatter keep him company until Willy and Hyms say their goodnights soon before curfew kicks in.

 

“So,” Mitch asks. “How do you feel about being back with the team for real?”

 

“It’s really good, Marns,” Auston admits, lying back on his bed, arms behind his head.

 

“And the shoulder is fine?” Mitch asks, chewing his lower lip in concern.

 

“Stop it, Marns,” Auston says gently. “I am fine, honest. The trainers wouldn't let me return, especially this close to the post-season, if I couldn't handle it.”

 

“Maybe,” Mitch acknowledges. “But I know how badly you want to play, Matty. So just be careful, alright?”

 

“Always, Marns,” Auston says. “So, how is Argo?”

 

“Running my mom ragged, apparently,” Mitch explains. “He seems under the impression she, too, can take him on long runs.”

 

“Oh, god,” Auston blushes. “She’s going to kill me.”

 

“Nah,” Mitch laughs. “She likes you too much for that. But she might put you to work to un-train Argo from this new habit you gave him.”

 

“I guess I could try,” Auston sounds faux-put upon, so Mitch ignores him as he changes into something to sleep and turns off the main lights in the room.

 

Once Mitch is in bed and Auston is done futzing around on his phone, they turn towards each other.

 

“It’s been a while,” Mitch smiles.

 

“Since mid-February,” Auston confirms. “This season has sucked so bad.”

 

“Agreed,” Mitch says, closing his eyes. “But we’re almost there.”

 

“I never thanked you, Marns,” Auston says, causing Mitch to open his eyes again.

 

“For what?” Mitch asks surprised.

 

“Everything, I guess. For keeping me company during the concussion and the back injury, for lending me Argo, for not letting me wallow in self-pity,” Auston says.

 

“Too much,” Mitch adds. “There wasn't a force on earth that would prevent you from wallowing is self-pity. But you were entitled.”

 

“Well, thanks anyway” Auston repeats. “It would all have been unbearable without you.”

 

“I’d say any time, but I’d really love if this season were a one-off,” Mitch wrinkles his nose. “You know, good for character building and what not, but not to be repeated.”

 

“Yeah,” Auston says, yawning.

 

“Go to sleep, Matty,” Mitch says. “And you’re welcome.”

 

Auston’s return to the line-up is a triumph, and it coincides with Mitch’s twentieth goal of the season, which is fantastic—not to mention, Mitch is actually leading the Leaf scoreboard, though he wouldn't if Auston had been playing. Still, it’s a big fuck you to all his critics.

 

The next two games are too close for comfort, and the Leafs win over the Red Wings only to leaf miserably with the fucking Sabres.

 

“Eichs taking you out to celebrate?” Mitch asks Auston teasingly once they’re done showering.

 

“Eichs is walking back to Buffalo if he wants to take me out to celebrate, because I am not driving and the bus leaves in, like, one hour,” Matty replies livid.

 

Willy sends Mitch a warning look, and Mitch decides to zip it. The rivalry amongst American hockey players can be more cutthroat than that between Canadian and American players.

 

“Come over tomorrow?” Auston asks Mitch instead.

 

“Tomorrow he can’t,” Brownie says, a twinkle in his eyes.

 

“I can’t?” Mitch asks. He wasn't aware he had plans with Brownie, though he’s not opposed to them.

 

“No, remember?” Brownie says. “We’re meeting my friends for coffee? We talked about it last week and you said tomorrow was okay.”

 

Mitch remembers nothing of the sort, but he understands what Brownie is trying to do, and he’s right.

 

“It’s tomorrow?” Mitch says, pretending to be confused. “I lost track of time, I am sorry.”

 

“No worries,” Brownie says.

 

“Another day, Matty?” Mitch says.

 

Auston nods with a smile, and turns to make plans with Willy and Kappy instead.

 

“Are there actually friends?” Mitch asks Brownie as they walk to the players’ lot.

 

“Actually there are,” Brownie says. “I’ve known Katie since forever and she’s a fan. So is her friend Corey.”

 

“I am not sure how I feel about this, Brownie,” Mitch says hesitantly.

 

“You don't have to see either of them ever again, Mitch,” Brownie reminds gently. “But if you don't at least try, there is no way you’re gonna move on. It’s just coffee downtown, so don't even bring the upcoming playoffs up.”

 

“Alright,” Mitch says. He likes people anyway. He just likes Matty the most.

 

As Mitch discovers the following day, Corey and Katie are lovely people—not that Mitch was expecting anything else, since they’re Brownie’s friends—and they chirp like hockey players.

 

Corey is a tall thin computer major at the University of Toronto with blue eyes, blond hair and a happy laugh. Katie is as tall as Mitch is, a lacrosse player in her free time and a vet assistant who’s saving money to go to Veterinary School.

 

Mitch has a great time and he exchanges phone numbers with both of them—they’re clearly close friends and don't seem to feel like they’re in competition for Mitch’s affections—but he knows this isn’t going anywhere. No matter what he said to Auston back in September—and Mitch _does_ want to find someone to date—he’s not ready. Not yet. Not now that his senses are still filled with Auston.

 

Auston, who clearly wasn't sufficiently entertained by their Scandinavian teammates, since he flooded Mitch’s phone with text messages about how bored he is while Mitch was having coffee.

 

 _Really?_ Mitch texts him back. _R we really so codependent?_

_Speak for urself_ , Matty replies immediately.

 

 _Im not the 1 who texted 50 times_ , Mitch points out.

 

 _Im just missing Argo_ , Matty defends himself, the fucking liar.

 

_Then u can come with me to the pet store. He needs to get groomed._

 

 _Absolutely not,_ Auston objects. _He doesnt like that._

_I see how it is,_ Mitch says, _U only want us on ur terms._

_Fine,_ Matty replies after a pause of five minutes. _Ill pick u up in 40._

“Matty is going to take us to the groomer, buddy,” Mitch tells Argo as he gets him ready for the outing—Argo loves outings. “Let’s not scream bloody murder while you get all pretty and clean, shall we?”

 

Argo, who knows when the outings aren’t gonna be fun, drags his paws until he sees Auston waiting for them outside Mitch’s building.

 

“I cannot stress how much I hate that you live on the other side of town,” Matty says, for probably the 100th time.

 

“Considering that I usually come to you, I don't see what the problem is,” Mitch replies.

 

“Woof,” Argo makes his presence known.

 

“I know,” Matty says, rubbing his head and passing him a treat. “Mitchy sucks. When are you going to leave him and move in with me?”

 

“Drive to the fucking mall, Matthews,” Mitch says. “Before we die of suffocation because of unpleasant fumes.”

 

“Woof,” Argo agrees, wagging his tail and farting with impeccable timing. Those treats are impossible.

 

The groomer is relatively painless for all that it’s in the middle of the mall. Mitch and Matty manage to fly under the radar, most likely because they have a dog with them. Mitch has kept Argo off the social media—a decision based on his need to keep at least part of his life to himself.

 

Argo behaves as well as expected, which is not very well, but the woman who takes care of him is a professional used to dealing with the trickiest of customers.

 

“We’ll take you to the nice dog park near my place, if you behave,” Auston tells Argo, because he still doesn't know how _not_ to bribe Mitch’s dog.

 

“Woof,” Argo says, seemingly uninterested in the proposition.

 

“We can take him to the dog park near my place if it’s still light,” Mitch counters. “Otherwise you’re going to go back and forth for no reason.”

 

“When does your lease expire, again?” Auston asks.

 

“When does yours?” Mitch replies. He doesn't see why he should be the one to move. Plus he likes his apartment. It’s home. It’s his and Argo’s home.

 

Auston doesn't answer, because he knows what’s best for him.

 

Once they’re done at the groomer’s, they end up driving back to Mitch’s and taking Argo for a quick run at the park. It’s almost seven o’clock, so twilight is fast approaching. There aren’t many people around, so Argo has the run of the place and Mitch and Auston can keep an eye on him without having to also keep an eye out for potential fans.

 

“Do you want to grab some dinner?” Auston asks after a while.

 

“What about your dad?” Mitch asks.

 

“He’s back in Arizona until the playoffs, so I am on my own,” Auston smiles sheepishly.

 

“Ah,” Mitch nods knowingly.

 

“What?” Auston says. “I can cook!”

 

“Three things,” Mitch reminds him. “But you hate to eat by yourself. We can either grab some takeout or cook something. I have stuff for some chicken and pasta.”

 

“Let’s do that,” Auston says. “I’ll save the takeout for when you’re not around to cook for me.”

 

Mitch shoves him, and Auston shoves him back. This begins a chase across the park which attracts Argo’s attention and soon he’s chasing them, too, trying to keep up with Auston until he turns, picks him up, and starts chasing Mitch with him.

 

“You win, you win,” Mitch says after a while.

 

“Woof,” Argo barks satisfied.

 

“It’s so not fair,” Mitch complains breathless. “You’re so much taller.”

 

“But I thought you were the fastest on the team,” Auston smirks, referring to the fact that Mitch is, indeed, one of the fastest skaters.

 

“On the ice,” Mitch grumbles. “This is grass.”

 

“Woof,” Argo barks again.

 

“Let’s take care of business, buddy,” Mitch says. “Then we can go home and eat.”

 

It’s a nice evening and, by the time Auston leaves, it occurs to Mitch that, even on a day when he went on a pseudo-date with Brownie and his friends, he ended up spending the rest of the day with Auston, with dinner thrown into the mix because that’s who they are.

 

This might be hopeless after all.

 

The next few days are hectic, with four games in six days. The good news is that the Leafs finally clinch their playoff spots and Babs gives them a day off before the last two games of the season against the Devils and the Canadiens.

 

Mitch is planning to text Katie to see if she’s free to hang out—he’s trying, okay, plus Brownie has been giving him judgmental looks of which Davo would be proud, so he doesn't want to be given another talk—when Auston comes up to him after the game against Buffalo.

 

“Do you have plans for tomorrow? We were thinking of going to the movies,” he explains, gesturing towards Dermy and Kappy.

 

“Actually,” Mitch begins blushing slightly, “I was thinking of texting Katie.”

 

“Katie?” Auston asks puzzled.

 

“She’s the friend Brownie introduced me to,” Mitch reminds him.

 

“Oh,” Auston nods. “Katie and Corey, right?”

 

“Right,” Mitch says, stuffing his things in his bag.

 

“She might not be free,” Mitch continues when Auston says nothing else. “So if you let me know where you’re going I can join you.”

 

“Yeah, we can do that,” Auston says distractedly, before turning his attention towards Willy, who’s bragging about his latest purchase.

 

By the time Mitch gets home, is almost 11 o’clock and he decides to wait until the morning to text Katie—plus he’s not 100% sure he wants to do this. Sleeping on it seems like a good idea.

 

Argo, who was napping on the sofa when Mitch opened the front door, looks at him somewhat uninterested, wags his tail a couple of times and goes back to sleep. Clearly the dog walker had been around, walked him and fed him, and Argo is now content chasing birds in dreamland.

 

Mitch gets ready for bed slowly, dragging his feet because he’s exhausted and it’s been a long week. He takes another shower, digs out some clean sweats and a long-sleeve shirt, and he puts some socks on for good measure.

 

He’s about to turn in when the doorbell rings. It’s not the intercom, but the actual doorbell outside Mitch’s door, which means it’s someone on the approved list of guests.

 

Mitch is surprised when he sees Auston through the peephole, but he opens the door quickly.

 

“Is everything alright?” he asks, letting Auston in. He’s still in his game day suit, which suggests he didn't go home. Some of the guys were grabbing something to drink, but Mitch had thought Auston was going home.

 

“Yeah,” Auston says, passing a hand through his hair. “Can we talk?”

 

“Like, now?” Mitch asks.

 

“Yeah,” Auston repeats.

 

“Woof,” Argo greets him, though he is as uninterested in Auston as he was in Mitch.

 

“Hey, buddy,” Auston says, sitting on the sofa next to him and scratching his ears.

 

Mitch takes a seat on the ottoman before Auston, and waits for whatever he’s got to say.

 

“This date you have tomorrow,” Auston begins.

 

“It’s not a date, really,” Mitch hastens to explain. “More like a pre-date?”

 

“Okay,” Auston says, a frown on his forehead. “About this pre-date …”

 

“I haven’t texted her, yet,” Mitch interrupts again. “I am going to do that tomorrow. Maybe.”

 

“Isn’t that, like, rude? To expect her to be ready at the drop of a hat?” Auston asks.

 

“We’ve been texting, and she knows my schedule,” Mitch explains, though he doesn't quite know why. “She’s fine if it’s last minute. If she’s not free, I’m not going to be mad or anything. We met once. But I am not so lousy that I would treat her poorly,” he adds, feeling a bit crappy at Auston’s implication.

 

“I am sorry,” Auston apologizes. “I didn't mean it like that. I was just surprised because you hadn’t said anything about either Corey or Katie after that day, so I thought it hadn’t panned out.”

 

“It hasn't,” Mitch confirms. “I’m just trying, you know?”

 

“You mean that thing you explained at the beginning of the season? About finding someone to be with? Someone to date?” Auston clarifies.

 

“Yeah,” Mitch nods, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “It’s really hard, because we’re always so busy, but I wanna try, at least.” He wants to find someone who loves him.

 

“About that,” Auston says. “I …” Auston stops, swallows, and then starts again. “I am not sure I feel too good about it,” he says quickly, so quickly that Mitch needs to run that through his head twice to make sure he understood him correctly.

 

“About what?” Mitch asks.

 

“You dating,” Auston says.

 

Mitch’s eyes widen as he looks at Auston, who’s avoiding his gaze.

 

“What do you mean?” Mitch says.

 

“Like, I don't like the idea of you dating?” Auston repeats, though this time it comes out as a question.

 

“Are you unsure about this?” Mitch asks sarcastically, since Auston is not making any sense.

 

“Fuck, I am not really explaining myself,” Auston says.

 

“You think?” Mitch deadpans.

 

“I don't want you to date someone else,” Auston continues, ignoring Mitch’s interruption.

 

“Someone else?” Mitch repeats. “I am not dating anyone.”

 

“But you are,” Auston points out. “You’re dating me.”

 

“You,” Mitch echoes, wondering if he fell asleep and is now dreaming.

 

“Yeah,” Auston says.

 

“We’re not dating, Matty,” Mitch says. He would remember if they were. “You don't do relationships,” he adds for good measure.

 

“We spend most of our free time together,” Auston states, finally looking at Mitch. “Whether it’s at your place or mine, we’re always together. We sleep over often at each other’s place. We go to Patty’s together all the time. I think Chrisitna is convinced we’re having a torrid love affair. You took care of me during my injuries, and I hope I was supportive when everyone in the press was so critical of your game.”

 

“You were,” Mitch assures him, because Matty has always been Mitch’s staunchest supporter.

 

“We go out for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, we take care of your dog, who likes me as much as he likes you, by the way,” Auston says smugly.

 

“Matty,” Mitch says gently, “this is not dating. It’s being friends. You do these things with other teammates.”

 

“No, I don't,” Auston says resolutely. “Do you?”

 

Mitch opens his mouth to say ‘Of course’, but there is no of course to be said. He doesn't do all these things with Brownie or Marty or anybody else.

 

“How is this different from last season, Matty?” Mitch asks, suddenly angry. “When we were doing all these things, minus the dog, but we also had sex? Which we’re not having right now, in case you forgot.”

 

“I …” Matty says, but words fail him.

 

“You …?” Mitch encourages him.

 

“I don't want you to date someone else,” Auston repeats, like that explains everything.

 

“Because …?”

 

“Because even if we’re not technically dating right now, I want us to be,” Auston finally admits.

 

“Oh,” Mitch says.

 

“Yeah, oh,” Auston echoes blushing.

 

“That’s a big change for you,” Mitch comments.

 

“That’s all you got to say about it?” Auston asks surprised.

 

“Well,” Mitch says harshly, “forgive me for not jumping up and down from joy. But, if I remember correctly, we spend almost a year and a half fucking on and off while you made it perfectly clear you weren’t interested in more. Then, you spend months ignoring me because we had seemingly gotten too close. Now, you’re telling me that we have pretty much spent the past few months actually dating. It’s a bit confusing, not to mention not very mindful of how _I_ feel about the whole thing.”

 

“Jesus,” Auston says, hiding his face in his hands. “I am fucking this up again,” he realizes.

 

“Yes, you are,” Mitch tells him, though not as harshly as before. “There is two of us, Auston. And I don't know what you are thinking about the two of us if you don't tell me.”

 

“I love you, Mitch,” Auston says disarmingly, thus ruining Mitch for life. “I love you like a teammate, I love you like a friend, and I love you like my parents love each other. I missed you dreadfully last summer, even if I chalked it up to missing a friend, and it was very hard for me to accept the no sex rule, even if I understood where you were coming from.”

 

“You didn't say anything about that,” Mitch says. “You never said anything about any of this. You,” he adds, about to get angry again, “never say _anything_ about this kind of stuff.”

 

“I was trying to listen to you instead of making all decisions for both of us,” Auston admits sheepishly.

 

“But you don't do relationships,” Mitch objects.

 

“It seems to me that I do,” Auston replies. “There hasn't been anyone since my concussion, Mitch. Nobody. Just you. And Argo,” he adds, rubbing Argo’s back gently.

 

“Brownie says I haven’t started dating anyone yet because you satisfy all my emotional needs,” Mitch confesses.

 

“Yeah,” Auston smiles softly. “Willy expressed a similar idea, though he suggested we get back to fucking sometimes soon, so that our overall quality of life might improve.”

 

Mitch snorts, because of course Willy would be concerned with _that_.

 

“I was in love with you, last season,” Mitch says. “What you did to me, to us, it hurt.”

 

Auston’s eyes look teary for a moment, before he composes himself.

 

“I am so sorry, Mitchy,” he says.

 

“It’s actually not your fault, you know,” Mitch tells him. “I never said anything about it, so how could you know?”

 

“What a clusterfuck,” Auston says, drying his eyes with his hands. “It seems like we have shitty timing.”

 

Mitch looks at Auston perplexed until Auston’s implication registers.

 

“I am still in love with you, Auston,” he tells him gently. “That never stopped,” he adds. “But you’re also my best friend, so I shelved those feelings and I’ve been trying really hard to get over you since we got back this season.”

 

“I am so happy it didn't happen,” Auston exhales, clearly relieved. “I know it might sound selfish, but I don’t care.”

 

“Yeah, well,” Mitch says, “with all the shitty stuff that happened to us, it became impossible to keep some level of distance.”

 

“I am glad,” Auston admits. “This season was hard, even more than the last, but I am glad, because I had you by my side. You make everything better, Mitch. I am sorry it took me a year to figure it out, but I am ready, now.”

 

“For what?” Mitch asks.

 

“For everything,” Auston says earnestly. “For us together, like a couple. For us to be exclusive and going on dates, and buying each other gifts, and taking turns at paying when we go out. I am ready to get the shovel talk from half of our friends, and I promise I’ll try to rein in the American contingent when the guys want to do the same with you. I am ready for Patty and Christina to actually invite us out for a double-date, and for Willy and Zach to do the same, considering the way things are going.”

 

“It’s more likely that the first people who’re going to go out with us are Zach and Brownie,” Mitch laughs. “You know, because of the mental trauma we inflicted upon them last season.”

 

“We can do that,” Auston says. “I want to do everything and continue to do what we’ve been doing this season.”

 

“Plus the sex,” Mitch smirks.

 

“That’d be nice,” Auston admits. “We’re very good at sex.”

 

“Mmm,” Mitch concedes. “I am a bit out of practice.”

 

Auston looks surprised at Mitch’s confession, but not displeased.

 

“I hear it’s like riding a bicycle,” he says wagging his eyebrows.

 

“Really, Matty?” Mitch sighs, shaking his head.

 

“What can I say? I am very charming.” Auston tells him.

 

“Maybe saying nothing might be good,” Mitch says, stifling a yawn.

 

“You’re tired,” Auston says, suddenly fretting.

 

“It’s past midnight,” Mitch points out. “Do you wanna stay over? Not in the guestroom,” he adds, so that Auston understands Mitch is on board with this idea of trying real dating.

 

“Yeah, of course,” Auston says. “Just to sleep,” he adds. “We’re both exhausted and we’ve got time. Is that okay?”

 

“Totally,” Mitch says getting up. “Come on, you know where everything is if you’re hungry or want to take a shower. And there is some of your stuff in the guestroom closet for you to sleep in. By the way,” he continues as they walk towards the bedrooms, “we’re sharing with Argo.”

 

“He sleeps with you?” Auston asks.

 

“Because he didn't sleep with you when you had him, right?” Mitch retorts. It’s not like he doesn't have photographic proof, courtesy of Mr. Matthews.

 

Auston doesn't say anything. He simply goes to the guestroom and comes back within five minutes dressed in sweats and a tank top.

 

“Are you sure you want me here?” Auston asks entering Mitch’s bedroom.

 

Mitch, who’s plugging in his phone, raises his eyes and smiles, “Of course I do.”

 

“Woof,” Argo seems to agree from behind Auston. He is clearly not disturbed by his presence in Mitch’s room and he goes to curl up in his usual spot at Mitch’s feet.

 

Mitch gets into the bed and kicks Argo gently until they’re both comfortable. Then, he gestures for Auston to get in. Argo opens one eye, wags his tail once, and then goes back to sleep.

 

Mitch laughs softly before turning towards Auston, who’s looking at him.

 

“You good?” Auston asks him.

 

Mitch nods happily and reaches over, dropping a gentle kiss on Auston’s lips. Then, he curls around him and lets Auston envelop him in his arms.

 

“Love you, Mitchy,” Auston says, dropping a kiss on Mitch’s head.

 

“I love you, too,” Mitch responds.

 

**Spring 2018 - Before the Playoffs**

 

“You guys didn't really need to take us to such a nice place,” Zach says, looking around at the restaurant Mitch chose.

 

“Yes, they did,” Willy states.

 

“You weren’t even invited,” Brownie remarks.

 

“I know,” Willy says, looking at Mitch with an icy stare. “I am still not sure how I feel about that.”

 

“This is a dinner to thank Hyms and Brownie for everything they did for me and Auston last year. And this year,” Mitch explains for the fifth time.

 

“I did plenty for you and Auston!” Willy repeats, also for the fifth time.

 

“Not to my knowledge,” Mitch says, although he doesn't doubt that Willy knew more than he ever let on and provided adequate support for Zach and Brownie. “You’re still paying for your own dinner,” he says, without really meaning it.

 

“No, I am not,” Willy says smugly. “Your boyfriend is going to fork over the money if he knows what’s best for him.”

 

“Is he blackmailing you?” Brownie asks Auston intrigued.

 

“Are you blackmailing Matty?” Zach asks Willy horrified.

 

Willy smiles serenely and says nothing. Auston wisely ignores the whole thing.

 

Mitch wonders what exactly it is that William Nylander has on Auston. It’s worth exploring. He’s going to put Zach on that, since Zach is so good at dealing with Willy.

 

“So, what’s good here?” Brownie asks.

 

“Everything,” Auston says. “Patty recommended it. Apparently he comes here with Christina when he can.”

 

“Date spot, eh?” Brownie says.

 

“I guess,” Mitch admits, “though we weren’t exactly thinking of this as a date.”

 

“I am just surprised you did not bring Argo,” Zach comments before starting to peruse the menu. “He would love it here.”

 

“Apparently they don’t allow dogs,” Mitch sniffs primly. “I called ahead.”

 

“Are you kidding?” Brownie asks in disbelief. “You really thought they’d let you take him?”

 

“Argo is a perfectly well-behaved dog,” Mitch points out.

 

“When it suits him,” Auston reminds him drily.

 

“It would have suited him just fine tonight, with all the food there is,” Mitch says.

 

“We can always bring him left-over,” Brownie suggests.

 

“Because we usually leave food on the plate,” Zach comments.

 

Mitch recognized that Zach has a good point. Hockey players don’t usually go home with doggie-bags.

 

Auston squeezes his hand, and Mitch smiles at him, letting go of the dog conversation. Argo has plenty of food at home anyway.

 

They spend their evening discussing the playoffs, bitching about Babs’ latest experiments in the line-up and sharing summer plans.

 

It’s so different from last April that Mitch cannot quite make sense of it.

 

As he looks at Auston, who’s involved in a heated argument about the Golden Knights’ chances with Willy, Mitch feels himself filled with joy.

 

There are hard times ahead, considering the challenges they’re facing in the next few weeks. The hope is to continue playing until June of course. But even if that doesn't happen, Mitch and Auston have Plans, with the capital P.

 

They’re going away together, and then Mitch is going to spend part of his summer in Arizona with Auston. No more extended periods where they don't see each other and they don't talk to each other. No more forced separations. They have the money and they have the time. And when their commitments take them to different places, they plan to do what they did that first time—keeping in touch constantly and supporting each other from afar.

 

When he looks up, Mitch sees Brownie looking at him with a happy smile on his face.

 

“Thank you,” he mouths. He’s said it often enough in the past months, but it bears repeating.

 

Brownie smiles, nods, and goes back to listening to Willy arguing about hockey.

 

As it turns out, Mitch doesn't need new friends, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote the story I wanted to read. So there. Title from Bon Jovi's Livin' On A Prayer.


End file.
